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theelvenhaven · 10 months

Text

Muse

Caranthir x Reader

k words

Request: Ohh I've been in bit of a Caranthir kick recently, thanks to you 👀 So for request... Thinking about artist reader and their muse Caranthir. Be it sculpting or painting they're always eager to pester him a little to be their model and praise him along the way. Or perhaps a quiet moment in the evening and he catches them doodling him in their sketchbook? 🥰

A/N: I totally understand the Caranthir kick, I get that way too lol. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

It was hard not to be captivated by your partner and all the things that made him… well him. What wasn’t there to love about Carnistir?

He had a tender heart but kept it guarded though those walls had slowly come down under your careful cultivation and love that you gave him. He was strong emotionally, and his temper while fierce wasn’t as easily triggered as most people suggested it would be. Carnistir used an amazing amount of restraint to keep from being so irrationally angry and with you he was always the epitome of gentle and caring.

Not to mention the great intelligence and skill Carnistir had. He was a wonderful conversationalist despite his reserved nature, and always were conversations full of variety and interesting topics. All that he seemed to have knowledge on somehow or another. Not to mention how excelled in banking and finance and even in diplomacy. You supposed having six other brothers would make you quite the diplomat when they were out to annoy and set your temper off.

But not only was a fine politician, but when he had shared with you his artistic abilities you were impressed with his gifts. It was hard not to be when you first laid eyes on a heavily embroidered piece of fabric that he was going to use to make himself a new tunic. Nor did it fail to impress you when you were gifted with a heavily beaded and embroidered article of clothing as well. Proudly did you wear it, and still wore it.

Carnistir inspired you to create, as an artist how could you not be inspired by him?

If anything you found yourself to consider Carnistir your muse. At first in the fact that he always seemed to give you great ideas on what you could sketch or paint next, painting some of the finest works of art he had ever laid eyes on.

But the more time you spent with Carnistir, the more you wanted to draw him and his beauty.

Carnistir was the most handsome ner you had ever laid eyes on. His dark hair complimenting his reddened complexion and freckled body, with bright silver eyes that stood out and pierced right into you. His lips full and perfectly kissable- you would know- and his jawline was strong, nose hooked.

He was beautiful to you.

But despite all of your praise on his beauty and how much you adored him, you knew Carnistir wouldn’t let you sketch or draw him. That he’d be too self conscious for you to do such a thing, so you took to doing it in secret.

Finding places to perch with your sketchbook out of his sight, sketching his strong Feanorian features, and spending copious amounts of time to make sure it looked just like him and was perfect. At first not all of it was identical to him, it took some time to fine tune everything and get it just right. Especially working with a moving figure and basing it off memory.

But eventually you managed to nail down how to draw him and that intensely handsome face of his, always keeping a red colored pencil on you to shade in his reddened face to tie it all together. You adored all of his expressions, no matter how dead panned or softly expressive they were, you took to drawing all of it.

It even got to the point where you could sketch him being in the same room with him, while Carnistir stitched and embroidered something. He was too busy to notice that you were sketching him, hyper focused on his own work never minding that you two were creating with him. It made him feel good to know that you wanted to spend your time creating with him too.

Tonight was no different, as you sat on the sofa, your back leaning against the armrest and with Carnistir at the other end of the sofa. The two of you sitting in a comfortable silence as he continued to stitch, the sounds of the hearth popping in the background, paired with the scratching sounds of your pencil lead against the paper.

Having been so used to drawing him, you didn’t need to look up to see what his face looked like. Drawing it all from memory, you were completely lost in your own little world as you continued to sketch him, taking your time. Adding details and shading, completely absorbed in you work, so much so you didn’t notice Carnistir getting up off the sofa to walk around for something.

You only continued the task at hand, while Carnistir walked over to his desk that was just behind you. Reaching for a pair of embroidery scissors to snip at the loose thread to at least shorten it, he was going to turn around and come sit back down with them. But as he began to approach he paused to see what it was you were sketching.

Quietly he looked over the ner that was on your sketchbook, not thinking much of it at first. Curious to know who it was that had caught your attention recently that you would draw them, there was no flame of jealousy as he understood how inspiration worked. Especially seeing his mother hard at work in the past and all the nerri and nissi she sculpted that wasn’t his father.

He approached and looked harder, and felt a ripple of surprise run through him as he realized that the ner on the page in your sketchbook was him! You were drawing him? Why? He was the furthest thing from attractive- in his mind- and yet here you were putting him down on paper. Skillfully too without even having to look at him.

He felt the heat of a blush begin to rise on his face, reddening his face further. It was hard to argue that it was him when you switched to your red color pencil and began to lightly redden his face, and darken the freckles on the sketch of him. Carnistir was a mixture of embarrassed but he was also flattered… Disbelieving that you’d find him so attractive that you’d want to sketch him.

Carnistir had always concluded that you weren’t with him for his good looks, as he felt he really didn’t have them with the rubicund face he had.

“Is… that me?” He rhetorically asked, but it was more of a shock even if he already knew the answer, it made you freeze in your sketching. Slowly he watched you move to sit up and turn around to face him, and you noticed how deep his blush was and how he seemed frozen unsure of what he was supposed to do now that he had caught you.

For a moment you were quiet as you set the sketchbook in your lap, looking down at the drawing on the page of a very intensely focused Carnistir. But you began to smile, you supposed you had been doing this in secret long enough.

“It is.” You answered him simply and with a smile directed towards him, and you could see the visible shock that was on his face. This was an expression you hadn’t ever seen so clear on his face, maybe in his eyes and not like a mask that took over his whole face.

“Why?” He asked trying not to sound so uncertain, preparing himself for any criticism or shortcomings you might come up with. Carnistir loved you and you him, but he couldn’t see what you found attractive to be able to draw him.

“Because I find you handsome.” You answered and you could swear his face grew even redder, rivaling his deep burgundy tunic. Carnistir stood there stiffly, his arms at his sides with his embroidery hoop and scissors still in his hand and those intense silver eyes left yours looking everywhere but at you.

His low self-esteem beginning to shine through, you had always suspected he didn’t think highly of himself, but now it was really showing. He hesitated on what to say for a moment, whether he should argue or let you have it. You’d be the only one in the world- aside from his mother- who thought him handsome.

“That can’t possibly be true.” Carnistir said to you with a surprising amount of firmness as he finally moved to take his place on the sofa. Scooting as far down it as the furniture would allow, putting a huge gap between the two of you as he went right back to his work. Trying to forget he ever heard you say such a thing. He didn’t think you were mocking him… right? You were above that right?

But fear settled in and he wondered if you were, you were too good to be true for him in his mind. He was lucky that you wanted to be with him… He let his thoughts run rampant with “what ifs” as he sat in silence, snipping away at thread that was too long.

“It is true, Carnistir.” You said to him warmly and you watched the way he tensed up hearing it from you, how could you possibly think that? Had you seen his face? His nose was too big, his face was too red, the scowl he wore was too intense… The only thing he liked was his freckles, because they were his mothers. He truly didn’t understand what you saw in him, save maybe his personality. That he was semi-confident was decent.

“I don’t see how.” He whispered out unintentionally, meaning for it to sound a lot more confident than it did, you looked at him sympathetically. You thought for a moment before you began to scoot down the sofa to sit next to him,

“Mmm I see how though.” You said holding out your sketchbook to take, this time it was flipped to a different part of it. Another page that had many little sketches of his face and facial expressions. Carnistir swallowed thickly as he looked at it from the corner of his eyes, Hesitating to put his hoop down before finally he did.

Taking the sketchbook from you as you encouraged him too, and slowly he looked over each little sketch. He winced, did he really make all these faces?

“There’s more.” You said softly as you reached over to flip to another page, and this time it was a full body sketch of him, dressed in an outfit from a festivity that you two had gone to together. When did you have time to do this one? He wondered to himself.

He let you flip the pages and with each picture, no matter how well you captured his likeness… Seeing his face over and over made him cringe. He hardly looked at himself in the mirror because he didn’t like what he saw, yet here you drew him freely and openly… repeatedly.

“Y/N… Why? Why are you drawing me? Why are you showing me these?” Carnistir asked this time with a firmness, though the confusion was sound in his voice as he knitted his brows together in a deeper scowl than he supposed he wore all the time. There was always a scowl to his face and it didn’t stop you from drawing it.

“Because I find you to be beautiful Carnistir, if I may dare say… I think you are my muse.” Him!? Your muse!?

“There is nothing beautiful about me, you’d be better off drawing someone like Tyelko or Curvo.” He argued back immediately, one named the Fair and the other for his likeness to their father who was no doubt attractive. Many nissi and nerri certainly chased after the two- their father included though he rejected them all seeing as he loved Nerdanel.

“Who says there isn’t? Carnistir, you are so beautiful.” You said eagerly as you scooted close enough that your knees were touching, though despite himself… Carnistir relaxed at the feel of you touching him. He sighed out in frustration, because he wholeheartedly disagreed. There was nothing beautiful about him, he didn’t want to insult you… But had you seen him?

“Y/N. There is nothing about me that is attractive. My nose is too big, my face too red, my lips are full but they’re a little crooked, and my jaw is too strong. Not to mention I wear a scowl mostly, and that is wholly unbecoming of me.” He argued with you giving you full insight to all of his insecurities. You were quick to shake your head as you turned to face him, your hand coming to cup his face to try and get him to look at you, but he hesitated.

“Carnistir, there is nothing wrong with your nose it suits you, your face is red yes but it doesn’t detract from your beauty. Your lips are perfect and kissable, and your jaw is perfect for your face. Carnistir you are unbelievably handsome.” You smiled out to him as you spoke tenderly, your thumb lovingly caressing his face. For a moment there was a silence and you could see those pools of silver looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not the only one who thinks those things of you, I have overheard many jealous nerri and nissi compliment your beauty Carnistir. Whomever has told you otherwise… They are cruel and unfair.” You said to him gently, as he slowly began to turn to look at you. His eyes were still cast down and his face was still the color of his tunic, but you smiled again.

“I love you and every part of you. Your personality isn’t the only thing that wowed me, melda.” You said to him gently and you felt him relax under your touch and sweet words, if there was anything Carnistir knew about you, was that you weren’t one to be untruthful. Especially with him, you were always honest and gave a thoughtful opinion on things.

He hesitated for a moment, shifting some uncomfortably.

“I.. love you too, Y/N… But I am… shocked you see such things in my appearance.” He said softly to you, and finally his hands came to interact with you. Coming to wind around your waist and pulling you in close. You grinned before you leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Of course I do, and you can expect to see far more pictures of yourself too. I love drawing you.” You grinned to him, and you could feel his face heat back up again. Carnistir sighed out at your words.

“I… don’t have to pose or anything do I?” He asked with a small grumble, making you laugh at his words. You shrugged,

“Only sometimes.” You winked as he looked at you, and gently he scowled making you laugh again.

“Fine… I suppose I can.” He conceded and you were thrilled with the news!

“You won’t regret it, melda.” You said with a big grin pulling at your lips before you pressed another kiss to his cheek. Making the corners of his lips tug up into a gentle smile.

“Now show me your work, we’ve seen enough of mine.” You said hoping to take his mind off the conversation you had and onto something that relaxed him. You were thrilled he would be your muse, but you didn’t want to push him too far where he stayed uncomfortable.

You loved Carnistir and couldn’t wait to show his beauty off to the world, but you’d start with baby steps.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

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criminalamnesia · 1 year

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Matchmaker (part 4)

warnings: not proofread, she/her pronouns used, fluff, part 4 of a series (you can find the other parts here)

summary: you and harwin spend a night in the woods.

author’s note: sorry for not updating this series for so long! life has been keeping me busy. hope you all enjoy!

The bright orange flames of the fire felt warm on your face as you sat on a log, hungrily eating a piece of the rabbit Harwin had caught earlier. He sat next to you, an amused expression on his face as he watched you eat.

“Good?” He asked, to which you nodded.

You swallowed, looking over at him with a grin. “Delicious. I’m surprised you haven’t been recruited to the kitchens.”

He chuckled and shook his head as you turned back to your food.

“It’s delicious because you’re so hungry, my lady. It’s just cooked rabbit; nothing special, unlike what the King’s cooks make.”

“I think this is better,” you told him truthfully as you swallowed once more. “Honestly, it’s nice to have something simple. The cooks can be… too ambitious, at times.”

He nodded in understanding. It was nice to eat elaborate meals, but usually, the best meals were the simplest. The ones made with the most care– the most heart.

You finished off the rabbit and tossed the bone back into the fire. The flames crackled as a log shifted within, sending tiny embers into the air. You watched them, transfixed.

Harwin’s eyes stayed on you.

“I do not remember,” you began, your eyes following an ember as it floated to the sky. “The last time I was able to do something like this.”

“Like what, my lady?” He questioned. You shrugged, your eyes now focusing on the dark expanse of the sky above you. Stars twinkled far above, constellations you recognized coming into focus.

“This,” you emphasized, waving a hand and looking back at him. “Something quiet. Relaxing.”

“You don’t relax with the Princess?” He asked, to which you gave a small laugh.

“Even when we’re relaxing, we’re not. Rhaenyra is restless. It’s just who she is. Even if she is not actively voicing her feelings, I am aware of them. It is not relaxing to be so vigilant and conscious of her actions– to soothe her even if she doesn’t voice a concern. It is work– and I do love my work– but it can be… tiring.”

He nodded, his knee bumping yours. “I understand. I believe that standing guard is similar. You are standing there, and it should not be strenuous, but it requires constant vigilance.”

“Does that make me a guard, then?” You grinned, leaning over to bump his arm with your shoulder. He gave a small chuckle, one of his hands reaching up to undo the tie in his hair.

“I suppose it does, my lady. Will I see you standing watch outside the Princess’ door when we return to the keep?”

“Oh, certainly, Ser. I would not miss it for the world.” You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, the curls once trapped in a bun falling into place.

He hummed, dropping his hand from his hair. You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper-aware of your position.

Mere inches separated your bodies. His knee brushed against one of yours. Your hands were almost touching where they rested upon the log. His eyes watched you intently, and you blushed under his fierce gaze, turning to look back at the sky.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you said, your voice soft.

“They are,” he hummed in agreement, but his eyes were not on the stars. He was still looking at you– at the way the firelight cast your face in a warm glow.

You knew he was still watching you. You could feel his gaze on you like a faint touch. There, but only if you didn’t acknowledge it. Perhaps that’s how this would always be, you thought. Stolen glances and subtle touches. The two of you dancing around whatever this was.

You were too scared to admit that maybe, just maybe, you really did fancy Ser Harwin Strong.

You cleared your throat then, pushing yourself off the log. Harwin watched as you stood, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, still seated on the log.

“It’s late; we should be getting back to camp,” you told him as you moved towards your nearby horses, to which he shook his head.

“Apologies, my lady, but it’s too dark now. These woods aren’t too thick, but I’d rather not chance getting lost.”

“We’re staying here?” You asked, turning back to face him. Your hand fell from the rein of your horse. “Did you plan this?” You asked, a hint of anger rising in your tone.

Had he really planned this? Swooped in at the right time, taken you out riding, dragged out his hunt and cooking so it would be too dark to ride back?

No, you thought. Harwin would not do that. He was honest, and he was considerate. He would never try to trap you into staying with him like this. This was purely accident– a coincidence.

“Of course not, my lady. I lost track of time– we both did.” He was standing now, making his way towards you. “If you really do not wish to stay, I’ll ride back with you myself. But I believe this is the safest option.”

Your anger dissipated as you looked at his expression: soft and concerned. You slowly nodded, “Of course, Ser. My apologies.”

He shook his head as he reached for one of the saddle bags, undoing its buckles and pulling it from the horse.

“You can use this as a pillow,” he said, holding it out to you. You took it gingerly, feeling the worn leather in your palms. “Not as fancy as the feather pillows in the keep,” he grinned, and you gave a small chuckle. “But it’s the best I can do tonight.”

“Thank you, Ser.” He nodded in return, already undoing the second bag. You walked back towards the fire and set your bag down nearby, close enough for the warmth, but far enough you wouldn’t burn. Harwin said nothing as he walked to the other side of the fire, putting distance between the two of you.

You didn’t question it. Instead, you slowly laid down, struggling to get comfortable on the grass. After a moment, you had finally found a comfortable position, and you closed your eyes.

Sleep welcomed you with a warm embrace.

—

When you woke, the sky was still dark. The fire had died down, it’s pathetic flame flickering dimly in the black night. You shivered as wind blew through the trees.

“My lady?” Harwin’s voice was just above a whisper; cautious incase you were still sleeping.

“I’m awake,” you replied, curling in on yourself in an attempt for warmth. “What are you doing up?”

“Keeping watch,” he replied. You rolled over to face him. He was sitting on the log the pair of you had shared earlier, the saddle bag he’d taken forgotten a foot away.

“You look exhausted. I can keep watch now–” you began, but he swiftly interrupted.

“Of course not, my lady. Go back to sleep. I can handle watch.”

You rolled you eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. “Stop being stubborn. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“It’s no bother,” he replied easily. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not unless you join me,” you said, then quickly blushed at what your words implied. “In sleeping, that is. Over there. On the other side of the fire.”

He gave a small chuckle, an amused but tired smile growing on his face. “And you say I’m stubborn.”

You didn’t reply, instead waiting for him to move. He didn’t, and after another beat of silence, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. Another gust of wind shook the nearby trees, earning another shiver from you.

Harwin noticed this time, and his brows furrowed in concern. “Are you cold, my lady?”

You waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not nothing,” he stated, moving to stand from the log. “If you die of hypothermia on my watch, I’m afraid of what the Princess will do to me.”

You chuckled at that thought, not noticing Harwin’s approach until was sitting down right next to you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“We don’t have any blankets,” he said. “But I can keep you warm, if you’d like.”

His expression was neutral, as if this was something he did all the time. Snuggling up with a woman he constantly flirted with and had unsaid feelings for, that is.

You looked at him, words battling each other on your tongue. You were cold, and Harwin’s offer was appealing. However, you were scared of what this would do to your relationship. This was intimate– more touch than the two of you had ever shared.

“If you’re not comfortable with this, my lady, I’ll go back to keeping watch and we can pretend this never happened.” He offered, but you found yourself shaking your head.

“No, it’s– it’s fine. Um, how do you..?” You began, but your voice fell off as he smiled and positioned himself behind you.

He gently pulled you back onto the ground, your head falling back onto the makeshift pillow. His front pressed against your back as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your breathing hitched, your cheeks burning furiously.

“Alright?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Y-yes. Um, thank you,” you said, trying not to focus on the pressure of his body behind you.

“Good,” he said, and you swore you could almost hear a smile on his tone. “Now go back to sleep.”

“You too,” you told him. He said nothing, only giving a noncommittal hum. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, willing your thoughts to quiet as you hoped for sleep to come.

Minutes later, you drifted off. Unbeknownst to you, Harwin quickly joined you in sleep, never feeling more relaxed than in that moment– holding you in his arms in the middle of the woods, under the glistening stars high above.

—

tags: @janelei @missusnora @richierich009 @andyrazzledazzle @lilpnd @beenovel @fangirls94 @janebby @cowgirlcherry @otesk @chelsey016 @bluscryn

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #harwin strong #hotd #ser harwin strong #game of thrones fic #house of the dragon fic #harwin strong x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #ser harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagine #harwin x reader #ser harwin #harwin breakbones strong #harwin breakbones #ryan corr

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always-andromeda · 1 year

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perhaps a white chocolate truffle + eddie? <3

your stuff helped distract me through a lot of my painful oral surgery recovery, so maybe something where eddie is helping his love recover from a surgery or an illness, or just any kind of fluff that you enjoy writing? :) i love your characterizations and writing style! <3

– 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐞

𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I'm so sorry this has taken so long to publish, anon!! but I will have you know that every time I went past this ask in my inbox, it made me almost tear up. thank you so much for your encouragement, dear. I hope that this blurb fits what you were looking for!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader has their wisdom teeth removed, pet names (sweetheart), complete and utter fluff, nothing else I can think of!

Edward had been nothing but a pure sweetheart. If your jaw didn't already hurt, you were sure his attitude would've given you a toothache. The second you mentioned you were getting your wisdom teeth removed, Edward put himself completely at your disposal.

First, he insisted upon taking you to the appointment and back. Even though you argued that you'd just use a ride sharing service, he was all too eager to use up one of his few vacation days to help out. And as if that wasn't enough, he dumped even more of his time into the matter reading up on the recovery process. Edward had never been able to afford to go to a dentist. So his lack of knowledge was his excuse for hyper focusing on article after article from various medical journals for a few hours at a time.

By the time the day came, he sat nervously in the waiting room, almost as if he was expecting the dentist to run out, declaring that something had gone wrong during the surgery and they needed a volunteer. Edward had read so much that he was convinced that he could absolutely do it if he was needed.

Thankfully, though, the procedure went swimmingly. Before too long, you were wandering out of the exam room. Your gait was clumsy and slow; almost like you were lost. But the second your eye caught Edward's figure standing awkwardly by the front desk, you gravitated towards him. As he helped you pay, you were practically latched to him with your arms around his forearms.

The woman behind the counter ran through the recovery process, to which Edward only half listened to. He was far too preoccupied with the sound of you humming contentedly through the gauze in your mouth. And that would set the tone for the trip home as you came down from the anesthetic.

During the drive, you shifted wildly between trying to tell him about a dream you'd had the night before, tearing up at how nice the dentist had been, and pointing to random things on the side of the road.

He drove by a trash can and you pointed, calling it to attention with a muffled, "Trash!"

Edward rolled his eyes and mumbled, "That's right, sweetheart, that's a trash can."

He chuckled when you added in amazement, "Woooow." Yeah, it was definitely a good thing that you were safe with him and not at the will of some random Uber driver.

A little under half an hour later, Edward was ushering you into his apartment. You were finally starting to come back to reality a bit more and the pain was setting in. But of course, Edward had that covered.

He led you to the living room where his beloved recliner resided; already set up with a pillow and a blanket. He let you get yourself comfortable and disappeared into his little kitchen, giving you a chance to shake your head in disbelief. Why he was so willing to go above and beyond for you, you had no idea.

More than any other partner you'd had, Edward was incredibly attentive. There was no length that was too far for the poor man. And though you sometimes felt bad for how committed he was, you had to admit...it felt nice being looked after and cared for with such fierceness.

So as soon he emerged from the kitchen with an ice pack in hand, you gave him the fondest smile you could manage, earning a giggle from Edward. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Your mouth is still a little numb," he muttered, nodding at the lopsided smile that had crept up the side of your face.

Before you could feel silly for it, Edward brushed the matter away entirely by handing you the ice pack and instructing, "Here, hold this against one side of your jaw for about fifteen minutes. Then you can switch it to the other side and do another fifteen minutes. It should help with the swelling over the next few days."

You didn't know why Edward even bothered to mention the fifteen minute part. Because his eye was firmly on the clock the whole time and he reminded you to switch over himself. You did what you were told, not having the heart to express any sort of ungratefulness at how doting he was towards you. Because as much as you valued your independence, you knew how much these kinds of things meant to him.

Being able to take care of something or someone was the way he showed his love. So you kicked back and tried to let yourself embrace it. The only thing you wouldn't let him give you was the TV remote.

"I'm super tired, Eddie," you yawned. "I'm probably going to fall asleep anyways. You can turn on whatever you want."

Edward's wide eyes blinked at you. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat before you fall asleep?"

You sighed, "No thank you, sweetheart. I'm not hungry yet. Maybe after I have a nap."

Despite the fact that he had a couch in the same room, Edward settled beside your hanging legs on the floor. He reached up to hold your hand as he turned the television on, flipping through the channels. He laughed softly, "Alright. Whenever you do wake up though, there's yogurt in the fridge and applesauce in the cupboard that are both screaming your name."

Your eyelids fluttered shut and you caressed his fingers in your hand. "Lucky me. Can't wait..." you drifted off.

After a few minutes, Edward felt your grip on his hand soften. He laid his head back, finally allowing himself to feel a shred of satisfaction as you snoozed. There was no way in hell that he would ever let you go through anything alone. No matter how big or small the matter might be, Edward would always be ready to care for you as best as he can.

#chocolate box valentine event❣️#paul dano #danocel #danonation #the batman #edward nashton #dano!riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x you #edward nashton fluff #dano!riddler x reader #dano!riddler x you #dano!riddler x y/n #dano!riddler fluff #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years

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Title: HALO: A MasterChief Collection: Unto Dawn {7}***

Master Chief Pablo x Sergeant Reader

Warning: Plot, NSFW, 18 + Content, SMUT, Small Bit of Angst

Words: 5.8k

Summary: You are part of the mighty SPARTANS as sergeant and a pretty badass addition to the team at that. With the first truth already revealed, more are revealed and when dawn comes everything will be different.

Note: Guess who needs more fics? Master Chief!!! I’ve decided to make a Master Chief collection of standalone one-shots. They all can be read separately to understand but can also be read in sequence. I will put a number on them so anyone who is interested in reading in sequence can, but again not necessary. This might be an acquired taste, but it’s Pablo as Master Chief forever and always around these parts. Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Note II: Halo OGs will get the title reference. Hehehe!

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

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-Y/N-

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

That was the sound of your booted foot rapidly bouncing up and down on the floor of your domicile as you sat on the couch with your eyes glued to your door. Everything was silent, albeit that sound—that repetitive sound.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The loudness of your foot bouncing against the floor should have made it impossible to hear any possible sound anywhere else—let’s say the hall leading to your door but it didn’t. The silence out there was deafening. The absolute silence and absence of his footsteps was deafening. You knew he wasn’t a stupid man. His intelligence was high as was his ability to perceive what someone meant next. It was a talent when it came to interrogations. A learned skill and enhanced ability. You knew he’d understood what you meant by “the rendezvous point had been compromised”. You knew he’d understood the dangers you’d both recklessly had put yourselves in. You also knew that he would have understood what your walking away meant. This was the only logical location.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Your foot sped up and with it so did your thoughts. You went over what he’d said. He’d taken out his pellet. This is what Miranda meant. She’d told him about your pellet. Now you wanted to know which action came first. Did he learn about your pellet being removed and then decided to take his out too or the other way around? You didn’t know which possibility you wanted to be true. Did it matter? The facts were what were important. John had removed his pellet. He was pellet-free. Everything you’d experienced within the first few hours he was now experiencing.

The first seventy-two hours were the worst for you. While it was a wonderous time where everything felt new and unique, you also went through sensory overload with everything. Every scent was too strong, the sun’s glare too fierce, the breeze, or rain or even snow too harsh, and every new emotion that wasn’t all that new felt nauseating. You remembered being so anxious and jumpy but also so distracted and hyper focused on the slightest thing. It made missions a nightmare. Was he going through the same?

You stood then released a harsh puff of air, venting some of your frustration. Why wasn’t he here yet, you wondered? Where did he go? Was he going to come? Did you really want him to come? With that question you dropped back onto the couch. A realization hit you, he didn’t have anything in him suppressing his emotions or urges.

The sensation of attraction hit you hard the first time. Thinking back, you remembered just how it was for you and your belly fluttered. You hadn’t known what was going on or why the smell of John’s sweat made your heart quicken, or why the sight of John showering made your mouth water and hands shake. You’d seen him shower hundreds of times, seen the soapy-water mixture cascade down his body so many times it had become normal. You remembered how the sight of what was between his legs made something in you tingle and moisten. You didn’t understand it then, but now—months later you were wiser—slightly. What if him coming here makes that happen to him?

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Your foot banged louder, and your thoughts spiraled, and you recalled your one and only night together. You’d wracked your brain trying to come up with an explanation as to how it happened. Your attraction had gotten to a boiling point but what of him? Was he lying and had the pellet out then? Or had Halsey’s failproof tech done just that and failed? You wanted to track Miranda down and get some answers right now. Bolting up once again, you prepared to leave then the door tone rang out making you stop in your tracks. After several moments, you practically tiptoed to the door and turned on the surveillance screen beside it. There he stood all near seven feet of him.

After taking a few deep breathes, you pressed the button and watched the door slide open. As he looked up, you noted how clear the hazel in his eyes had become. He looked like he really was seeing differently. His eyes also asked the question his lips did not. You stepped to the side and allowed him access. As he walked inside you watched him closely as if he were this unpredictable force that could and would go berserk at any moment. However, he did not go berserk, or do anything out of the ordinary.

You rolled your eyes because none of this was ordinary. This was probably the second time in forever that he’d been inside your domicile. This was the definition of abnormal but somehow it felt as if he should be here. He should be in your domicile, should be sitting across the table from you at mealtime, or sitting on your couch tinkering with a gun or plasma grenade, or in your bed. By the time your eyes came into focus you’d realized you’d dazed off and he was now standing next to that table looking at you with such an innocent and vulnerable look on his face that you couldn’t help but take a step to him.

It was a step you retracted almost immediately.

“Why here?”

“Miranda and I have fortified it. When I realized I could trust and confide in her when I took out my—pellet She helped me find Halsey’s eyes and ears, get rid of them and fortify so no others could be planted. It’s safe here.”

It was he who took the next steps to you, but he didn’t approach too closely. He stopped several feet from you, but it was still too close. You side stepped and walked over to your couch and sat down.

“How did you—why did you--.”

His starts and stops were adorable. He didn’t know where to begin. You understood, this was a lot to take in and adjust to.

“Sit,” you urged.

The look of caution John gave you almost made you snort. He was acting like you were the threat. Slowly you watched his bow-legged walk to the minimalistic chair that was adjacent to the couch you were sitting on. When he sat, there was no ease or comfort to it. His back was straight, legs spread widely apart, hands resting atop his thigh and eyes on you—waiting. On the surface, he looked calm, cool and collected but you knew better. You knew underneath that icy and stoic exterior he was losing his mind with the urge to rapid fire every question that came to mind. You could tell he was seconds from bouncing off the walls.

“How did you take it out?”

“Dug it out.”

“How did you know it was there?”

You took a deep breath, “Remember the mission to Aleria?”

“The dust planet.”

You nodded.

“You fell off the cliff,” he added.

“I did and landed in the pit of those sharp rocks.”

“You said you were fine.”

“I was or thought I was. It wasn’t until I got back to base and was cleaning up did I notice the massive bruise on my back. Usually bruises fade within a day or two but it was almost a week and it didn’t look to be getting any better. In those days I noticed small changes. Things seemed a little different but I didn’t know how or why. When I looked at the area I felt it and it felt like there was something lodged there. I ended up taking a knife to it and the pellet came out.”

He looked to be taking that piece of the puzzle well. There were no outward signs of a mental breakdown.

“Is that when you went to Miranda?”

“No that was about a month after. I just tried to keep everything normal. I had to. After it was out, I started to feel things, emotions like anger, rage, happiness, I laughed, things were funny. Colors were brighter, smells better, the armor felt different, it was a lot to take in. There were so many days I couldn’t handle it. So many missions I nearly spazzed out on because the training was not enough to keep the self-doubt, the thoughts, and the urge to rebel against an order wondering if it was the right thing. My objectivity was gone.”

“I thought you were different. I noticed but then you’d go back to normal when I watched. I thought it was nothing.”

“It was control. It was me working doubly hard to appear normal.” You sighed remembering those weeks and months. “It was so much work—so hard especially with Halsey’s eyes and checks and exams. There must have been tens of times I thought she’d discovered me but every time she let me go, I knew I was safe, but I could never relax from fear of it being a tactic of hers to catch me.”

It was then his shoulders began to slouch.

“You should have come to me.”

“And say what? Halsey has a pellet in your back that makes you numb? Would you have believed me?”

He studied you for a few moments before he looked away. You knew that he knew he wouldn’t have believed you.

“I believe you now.”

Hearing the words, you felt some strange relief. You weren’t alone with this anymore. Yeah, you had Miranda, but she didn’t know what this felt like. She’d gone her entire life with emotions and feelings. Things that were second nature and a duh for her were not for you. It took practice, note taking--meticulousness. Now you had someone going through the same exact thing as you. You sighed.

“So it was out when we sparred in the ring and the mission where you disobeyed me and took initiative. And that night.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Your foot picked up right where it had left off before he’d arrived. Fighting the urge to bolt up and pace the room, you dug your nails into your outer thigh and gritted with the subtle pain. You didn’t know if he sensed your agitation, but he unexpectedly changed the direction of the conversation.

“Miranda says the artifact must have damaged mine when it sent out an electromagnetic pulse. It was malfunctioned when she took it out.

“Ho—how do you feel?”

He tilted his head to the side a little bit then straightened it and did the same on the left side. It was like a robot doing a systems check.

“I feel.”

His eyes met yours. “Have you always looked this way?”

“What way?”

Again, he took a beat then replied. “Pleasing to the eye.”

Your jaw dropped. Master chief Petty Officer John-117 just called you attractive. You could have passed out. Never did you think you’d see this day. Did he even know what attractive was?

“My looks have always been the same.”

In such swift movements, John stood closed the space between you and sat on the table before you that you had a few books scattered on. “Your eyes this color?”

His face peered closer into your orbs. You nodded.

“Your skin—this--.” He cupped your jaw sliding his thumb across your cheekbone then to your jaw. “This—soft.”

Your vocal cords wouldn’t work, you knew that already, so you didn’t bother answering. You nodded again. John’s thumb fell to your lips where he traced them taking in every detail with the thick pad of his digit like his skin held memories and your lips was what he wanted to remember the most.

“Your lips—so---.”

His eyes were glued to your mouth and the intensity in them made the hand you were currently using to dig your nails into your thigh tremble. He didn’t continue though, instead, he clenched his jaw and gulped. His Adams Apple bobbed making his heart quicken. This was nothing like using your heightened senses in combat or on a mission. This was different.

You naturally picked up all these little details but now they meant entirely different things. Before increased heartrate could mean someone was lying or trying to hide something. Now, it could mean the man across from you was struggling with adjusting or feeling arousal. Then, the twitch of a jaw could mean anger, now it could mean a struggle with control—a fight to hold on to it and not act impulsively—recklessly—rakishly. A slight dilation in the eye used to mean he’d picked up a detail or movement, now it could mean he saw something appealing, something he liked—wanted.

His voice brought you out of your chaotic thoughts; “Your mouth--,” he began as he pushed the tip of his thumb into your mouth. It wasn’t a difficult task for him. Your lips parted with ease and welcomed him.

“Fuck!” It was a guttural, and harshly whispered word that sent a shiver through you.

“So—hot—smooth--.”

His face came closer and everything in you wanted to feel his lips on yours, but the small voice in your head whispered of caution, of danger, of nearing doom. John’s left hand that was clasping the back of your head moved down to your neck then slowly trailed lower to your collarbone. As his thumb in your mouth explored the buds of your tongue and the variety of sharp and dull teeth, his other fingers swirled around your collar and décolletage, leaving a trail of icy fire. His touch burned—scorched even, but chilled and stunned all at the same time and you wanted more—needed more.

“Y/N,” John whispered his forehead now pressed against yours. He was sweltering.

The subtle mint and juniper berry scent caressed you, awakening something in you that wanted to know if his lips tasted like that mint and juniper. From memory, you knew they would. You knew he would taste sweet, and fresh and his kiss would leave trails of ice along your skin. That knowledge only made your insides burn more fervently. His scent would forever be engraved in you, forever be one you would crave.

Without thinking, you placed your hand on his bulky thigh and instantly gripped it when you registered the hefty muscles there. A small groan strangled in your throat, but you knew he still heard it. His eyes snapped open and peered into yours. You felt like the glare from them were as intense as the rays from the sun itself.

“You smell--,” he inhaled deeply then moaned. “Sweet like fruit, earthy like water, fragrant like flowers. You smell—like need.”

Master Chief was a sweet talker without even trying to be. You knew this was all innocent on his part. He was just working through his newfound world and what it meant to him and his senses. There was nothing sensual within his words, no yearning, or desire. That was all coming from you, and you had to get a grip. Steeling your nerves, the best you could, you swallowed—albeit a little too loudly, then spoke.

“D—do—do you have—question—s?”

Looking in his eyes, you saw innocence but there was something else. The moment you smelled him, you almost ripped his clothes off. You smelled desire. Was it yours or his, though?

“Do I smell the same as you do—to you?”

You shook your head.

“What do I smell like?”

“Mint, juniper berries, gun metal, citrus pods--,” you paused and inhaled. There was always something else that you couldn’t ever decipher. In the last few weeks, you’d come up with something but none of it was plausible. It sounded stupid. “And the stars and the night air after a cool breeze rips through leaving nothing but silence--stillness.”

Chancing it, you opened your eyes and found his on yours. In seconds, John’s lips crashed to yours and took control of a searing kiss. Weeks ago, his kiss was forceful, demanding and sloppy, tonight it was the same but oh so urgent and eager. When you looked back at that first night with him, you’d wondered how he kissed like that. Tonight, you understood. Instinct. You quickly got lost in his kiss, lost in his taste, lost in the way his hand felt at the tail of your back where the evidence of the missing device laid. The fragments of his words from the day you’d had your exams with Halsey echoed in your head.

“Anything else you are thinking, anything besides that, stop. None of it means anything, it never has.”

You quickly tore your lips from his, bolted upright to your feet ramming your nose into his in a jumbled move to scurry from him and across the room. John’s loud hiss filled the room. You kept your back to him and stared at the wall, trying to fight through the pain in your own nose and keep the seams of your control together. They were quickly fraying, threatening complete exposure.

“Y/N?”

The confusion in his voice stabbed at your chest. Did he even know what he was doing?

“You said—I don’t—this isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We have done this before.”

“And you reprimanded me for it and ignored me for weeks after. You even went as far as to tell me that you are my superior and I am your subordinate,” you began.

“That I have your back in the field and you have mine. We get in and get the job done. Anything else you are thinking, anything besides that, stop. None of it means anything, it never has. None of it will ever happen again. Keep your head in the fight, there is a lot at stake,” John filled in with his perfect memory.

“Exactly,” you whispered ignoring how the words that were spoken with such conviction and certainty weeks ago were now said softly, with plenty of uncertainty and regret. Did he regret them?

“I didn’t know what to say, or how to reconcile things,” he attempted beginning to pace your floor. “I had the memories of that night, but I did not understand them, did not understand how or why. My head was not my own. Miranda thinks there were moments of clarity from the pellet and moments where it worked. I think—that night…with you was—clarity.”

You watched him pace. This was not the John you knew who was always in control. He was struggling. Could his words really have been because of the pellet and his actions that night real? He continued to pace but you remained where you were contemplating what you should do.

Was it a good idea to go to him? Was it a good idea to just let him deal with his first bout of regret? It wasn’t just regret though. He was confused and struggling to understand it all. Sighing, you walked to him and placed a gentle hand on his burly shoulder. Immediately, John stopped moving and turned to you with tortured eyes. This was hard enough, you thought. You didn’t want to make it harder or make him go through it alone like you had. A full minute passed before he was fully turned to you and stepping closer. When he didn’t stop, you backed away. He followed.

“Why—why did you—that night?”

His broken question was something you hadn’t expected. You knew what he was asking. Your back pressed against the wall—nowhere else to go. Resigning to your fate, you spoke.

“I—I wanted you. I desired you. I wanted to touch you, to—have you.”

John’s eyes sparked to life, and he closed the last remaining bit of space between you. You could feel his hardness pressing into your abdomen. He too wanted. John looked down between your bodies.

“This is the third time tonight this has happened to me. The first standing just outside your door as I heard you moaning my name over and over saying you want me inside of you.”

Your belly fell. He’d heard you.

“The second at the tower and right now. This has happened so many times since that night with you. As I tried to sleep, took a shower, saw you sparring with Kai or Riz, you in your skivs while changing, and almost every waking moment in between. It was torture—the heat, the ache, the erraticness. I didn’t understand why or what was happening, but I understand now.”

His face was so close, all you had to do was tip your tongue out and you would taste his lips. You didn’t, though. You wanted to hear his deduction. Everyone spoke highly of master chief’s tactical intelligence, raved about it really. Halsey even gloated about his overall intelligence claiming she’s made the perfect specimen both in physicality and mentality. You didn’t doubt his intelligence, not one bit. You knew John was smart and deserved the constant praise, however, you wondered how much of it was enhancements and pellet and how much was the man himself.

“What do you understand, John?”

When you said his name, another spark behind his irises caught your attention. His hips lunged into you sending his erection into your abdomen again. This time you couldn’t help but moan.

“You affect me. You always have, from the very beginning. You make me want.” His voice was raspy but certain.

“Want what?”

John’s eyes held you where you were.

“You. So much of you so much from you. I—Y/N—I--.”

Deciding to say fuck it all you crashed your lips to his and took control. Although you both had no experience you at least had an inkling more than him. His instant reaction to your lips on his was what made you wrap your arms around his neck. He kissed you back without hesitation and without any control. There was no sense in how his lips moved against yours, no organization, just plain need.

John’s hands that were plastered on the wall, caging you in, were now on your hips, squeezing you. it almost hurt—almost. Moaning on his mouth, you brought your hands to his head and held his head in place. Abandoning your hips, John lifted you with such ease your desire flooded your panties because of it. You wanted him badly and you doubted you cared if it were here against the wall or on the floor or the across the table. It didn’t matter.

As if hearing your thoughts, John pressed your back to the wall, grinding his hardness into you. Before you could pull from him, his mouth broke the kiss and exclaimed out in a mixture of bass and squeak. His eyes were on yours, studying you, looking for something.

“What John?”

“You want this?”

This could have meant his cock or this moment, whatever he meant you nodded—vigorously and felt no shame. His hips surged forward again and both of you exclaimed this time.

“Do you?”

John’s eyes dropped to your lips, and it was him who kissed you this time. It was soft, slow, searching and then he slipped his tongue into your mouth, and it was like he became an entirely different man than the one who was lost and innocent minutes ago. His groan echoed in your domicile, and it was more animal than man. He released you then spun you around pushing you into the wall as soon as your feet touched the floor. From there John kissed your neck, then brought his mouth to your ear where he licked the shell then nibbled on it. All the while he ground his hips sending his length on your ass.

“Uuugh, Y/N.”

You weren’t used to him sounding so vulnerable, so needy. Hearing him like this snapped something inside of you like a rubber band. You reached behind you and cupped his manhood. Again, John groaned. As you felt him through his pants it felt as if he hardened even more.

“Pl—pl--,” he stuttered.

You continued your ministrations adding a little more pressure. His one hand on the wall balled into a fist that pounded onto the wall creating a noticeable dent.

“Pl—please.”

A devilish smile teased your lips but when you felt his other hand squeeze your hip you knew the time for teasing or dominance games was gone. You quickly began undoing his pants, desperately needing to feel the heat from his skin. Within seconds, you’d managed to free him. The blazing rod that laid across the swell of your ass felt as if it were branding you, melting your skin, claiming you as his. You peeped back and found John’s eyes glued to where his appendage touched you.

“Beautiful.”

“I need—need--.”

You knew what he needed; it was the same as what you needed. With the same haste, you undid your leather like pants and urgently pushed them off your hips. The motion of you shimmying your hips from side to side while trying to get your pants low enough, bobbed his heavy cock on your ass and every move made him swear and squeeze your hip harder. Pressing your cheek to the wall, you moaned.

“Do you remember what to do?”

“I know what to do.”

You bent forward a little as he adjusted his stance behind you, lining himself up correctly. You waited and waited and though it felt like an eternity, it really was mere seconds before you felt master chief petty officer John 117 thrust into you with such force that sent your cheek pressing further into the wall while making your neck bend backward. Both of you shouted out in unison. He filled you so perfectly, so completely. Part of you hummed with a feeling of finally—complete resonance; while the other part said you couldn’t take anymore and raged. John must have sensed the need for balance and remained perfectly still though the hand on the wall said he wanted to do the opposite.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Slowly, your body adjusted to the size and feel of him, slowly it accepted him. It marveled you that your body hadn’t reacted this way to him before. Whenever you thought about that first night, your body was greedy. Tonight, it was cautious. What was different? You glanced the way his hand trembled and knew he what to do. Moving your ass in a small circle you sent his cock rotating inside of you and John’s fist flattening on the wall. You did it again and his other hand joined the wall, bracing it or himself.

Again, you looked to him, but his head was hanging backward, eyes pinched closed, neck tight and threaded with veins. He didn’t look like he was breathing. The more you circled on him the more he swelled within you, but your body didn’t scream in rejection, no your body aided his girth rewarding your efforts with wetness. A whine escaped your throat, and you knew it was a sound you’d made for the first time. John knew it too. His hands left the wall and gripped your hips and just like that whatever little control he was desperately gripping to vanished.

John slowly retreated from your body and your greedy core protested and tried to suck him back in but failed. Every suction made John grunt and groan.

“Fuck!”

He didn’t retreat fully before he slammed right back into you.

“Aah!”

This time he retreated halfway then repeated the action. It garnered the same reaction, a half shouting moan. With each slow and steady withdrawal came a bruising and forceful snap forward of his hips that sent the most delicious and complex feeling of pleasure and pain through you and sounds you’d never made before from your throat. Soon, John sped his thrusts, but they were no longer steady. You could feel his body shaking, feel the sporadic spasms of his muscles and his cock as it lodged deeper and deeper into your body.

He stuttered your name over and over then that stutter disappeared, turning into chaotic and gravely grunts of your name. Soon, he had your entire body pressed against the wall with you haphazardly on your tiptoes trying not to allow him to impale you and fuck you into oblivion no matter how much part of you wanted just that. The sounds in your domicile sounded animalistic, crass, and violent.

From your combined moans, grunts and shouts, to your hands hitting the wall each time his cock collided with some secret place inside of you that sent goosebumps across your skin and your flesh rubbing and slapping together. If anyone heard it they would probably think foul play, but you didn’t care. They could have barged inside and became your audience for all you cared. Right now all you wanted was to feel this large man inside of you, filling you to capacity and making you scream in ways you’d never screamed before.

John grunted loudly, punched the wall once, then twice, in sync with the thrust of his hips. On the third plunge, you saw stars and by the fourth, your knees gave out, toes numbed, and voice went soprano, but John was there holding you up with one strong arm to deliver one final thrust before you felt him spilling inside of you. His body convulsed against yours as he shuddered into your ear before hissing. Your panting turned to mewls and neither of you could move from where you were. John rested his chin on your shoulder and tried to catch his breath the same as you.

“Was—Was that fast?”

His question barely registered. This feeling was still something you hadn’t gotten used to and didn’t know how to process. It was different when you were alone and exploring your own body then with him. With him it was always close to—too much. You wondered if he felt that too.

“Fast?”

“The first time felt longer in my memory.”

You snorted because he was right. Now comparing the two this was quicker.

“It’s okay, John.”

“I—I—I’m—sorry.”

Those words made you angle your head back a little to see his face. His forehead glistened with sweat that now rolled down his temples and sides of his face. A chaotic look was in his eyes but you also so insecurity. Was he ashamed? Moving for the first time in long minutes your legs tingled when they touched the floor and you doubted they possesed the strength to be used but you fought through it. John allowed you to take more control of your body and rose to full height.

The new space allowed you to pull from him. With another hiss, John slipped from between your folds and the feel of the emptiness made you frown. Turning to him the glistening part of him that had just been inside of you caught your eye and mesmerized you. His seed dripped from the still swollen and now aggressively red tip onto the floor and the angry veins throbbing just below his flesh made your breath hitch. He was still hard. Shaking your head, you met his eyes.

“Wh—why are you sorry?”

His eyes dropped from yours, but you cupped his chin making him look at you again.

“At me John.”

“Something in me tells me it shouldn’t be fast.”

A small smile tickled your lips. He was adorable. You wrapped your arms around his neck pressing your body against his and his automatic response was to moan, sigh and wrap his arms around you right back. Your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest.

“It’s okay. This is new. You need practice.”

John’s eyes darkened and you knew he grasped your meaning.

“Practice.”

You nodded. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and distracted you making you want to tip your tongue out to capture it. He smelled delicious and his lips tasted delicious. Why couldn’t that? It was an urge you couldn’t fight, so you didn’t. Leaning into him, you tipped your tongue out and licked up his neck to his earlobe, bit down then moaned. His cock immediately saluted you.

“You didn’t become the master chief you are today without a little bit--,” you whispered, pausing to tip your tongue into the shallow part of his ear. Again, his cock begged for your attention. “Or a lot of practice,” you finished pressing more firmly against him. “Right?”

Your eyes met and it was right this minute you saw the demon every foe did. Only the demon you saw was not evil or soulless. He was a daemon. He was just unbound, hungry and insatiable. Your belly did backflips thinking of the demon in battle joining you in your bed. You stepped back from him and walked around him with your pants still at your knees. John turned to watch you, his cock bobbing, begging, dripping. Tearing your eyes away from the captivating appendage, you bent and undid your boots before kicking them to opposite sides of the room. Next, you peeled your pants and underwear down the rest of the length of your legs and kicked those to the side too.

John looked from your toes up your legs, eyes resting right at the apex of your thighs, the place he had just been and from the looks of his cock desperately wanted to return to. You allowed him however long he needed to satiate his gaze. When his eyes met yours again, a new feeling of insecurity washed over you. Rolling your shoulders back you shook it off.

“What do you say master chief? Forward unto dawn?”

His nose flared, jaw clenched, and mouth quirked to the side in a lopsided smirk that made you quiver. In seconds, he’d crossed to you ignoring his own pants circling his ankles and hoisted you into the air and against him. You wrapped your legs around him and moaned at the feel of his thickness nudging against your sore but wanting core.

“Forward unto dawn,” he repeated just before his lips claimed yours.

John kissed you passionately and walked without eyes as if he’d walked these halls before, as if he belonged here. Your moans melded together and with each passing second your bodies communicated—begging the other for something neither of your mouths could voice from lack of knowledge. When you felt the softness of your bed under your back, you began to wonder how you’d gotten here, but when he kissed you again and you felt his cock spasm against your slit you moaned and wondered how it had taken you this long to get here.

“Y/N,” John moaned.

From now on you knew this was the only way you wanted him to ever say your name—upon a moan.

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gothicprep · 2 months

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this is something i've complained about before, and probably will again, but because i see this so often, here we go again lol. i promise i'm not just rehashing the same thing i've already said. but i can't stand when people say "wokeness is like a religion." or that maga is "like a religion". i feel like it's observing something relatively banal but framing it in a way that somehow makes it wrong.

i guess i'll just run with the religion example to stress test it for a moment by dialing it up to 11. when we think of fundamentalism in religion, we tend to think of it in a way that means hyper-literal interpretation of scripture and fidelity to that. and the religion analogy takes that definition for granted, with religious texts being swapped out for specific platitudes and styles of argumentation. but this doesn't apply to all religious extremism. west bank settlers, for example, are religious extremists, but there's about as much in jewish scripture about what they're doing as there is "kill john lennon" in the catcher in the rye. same with buddhists in myanmar – there's nothing in buddhist teaching that could possibly be misconstrued as being violent towards muslims, but that doesn't stop buddhist leaders from winking and nudging towards that. neither of these things are anything to do with the core theological grounds of their respective religions. what they're fundamental *about* is being jewish or being buddhist.

so, following from that, it's not really religion that we're talking about after a certain point. it's intense tribalism and group dynamics. it's fierce in-group mentality. we attach this to religion because religion is very good at creating these sorts of group structures, but this isn't something native to religion itself. and it isn't coincidental that a lot of things that get hit with this religion comparison are group structures, whether it be the literal emphasis on community that's in social justice focused left spaces, or the "us v them" stuff in maga. any strong cultural identity comes with the risk of its abuse. it's kind of the nature of the beast.

i don't know lol. seems to me like you're making a weird leap when you compare something to a religion without immediately arriving at what i think is an obvious follow-up question: if something can behave like a religion with the supernatural elements of it removed, then why are religions themselves like that?

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lady-riel · 2 years

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“Drunk in the Wrong Bedroom” - Part 2/2 - Gwynriel fic

Part 2 summary: Azriel's POV of Gwyn's drunken ramblings, plus what happened the next morning.

A/N - I generally dislike rewriting a whole scene from another person's POV but I got so many requests for Azriel's so here you go.

Part 1 here

Read on AO3

Part 2

A shuffling noise punctuated by a hiccup woke Azriel from sleep. Instinct had him silently unsheathing the dagger that was always stowed under his pillow.

He tossed off the covers to free his legs, giving no thought to his nakedness, every muscle in his body focused on the impending fight. With an invisible flick of magic, he illuminated the bedside faelight to unmask the intruder, his dagger pointed directly at them.

The flare of light made Gwyn’s unbound copper hair shine and swing like a curtain as she jumped back in surprise. Her wide eyes were unfocused, and she smelled like she had just climbed out of a whiskey barrel.

Azriel watched her gaze travel down his body, and he was suddenly hyper aware of his distinct lack of clothing. Shit.

He guessed that Gwyn’s obviously whiskey-soaked brain finally comprehended what she saw because she let out a squeak followed by three loud hiccups. Adorable hiccups, his brain supplied. He viciously shut down that line of thinking.

What the hell is she doing in my room? he thought as he tossed the dagger aside and pulled the covers up to his waist so Gwyn wouldn’t have a heart attack right in front of him.

“What—” she hiccuped again “—are you doing in my bed?”

“This is my bed.” Fuck, she was absolutely drunk out of her skull.

“Then what is your bed—” another hiccup “—doing in my room?” Gwyn demanded. She tried to put her hands on her hips, as if to prove a point, but was so wasted that she staggered instead.

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gwyneth. This is my room.”

Gwyn’s face was scrunched up like she was concentrating on something complicated, and she swayed and fell down onto the bed.

Gwyn is sitting on my bed. His stupid fucking brain which wouldn’t shut up was doing some kind of ridiculous happy dance. It became even more excited by the crimson flush that crept over Gwyn’s cheeks, obscuring her freckles.

“I can’t believe I just saw your—your—” She halted, unable to produce any more words, her jaw open in shock.

Azriel tried hard not to laugh. Or show any expression at all. “Yes, maybe refrain from telling Nesta about this,” he said, shuddering inwardly, thinking that if Nesta found out and decided he was somehow taking advantage of Gwyn that she’d have him by the balls.

Gwyn didn’t reply, her huge eyes still sliding in and out of focus.

But then she leaned in towards him, one hand on the bedspread. “Don’t tell—” she let out another hiccup “—don’t tell Azriel that—” her voice attempted to drop to a whisper but still came out comically loud “—that we drank all his whiskey.”

Now Azriel really had to fight not to laugh. Mother’s tits, was she so drunk off her ass that she didn’t know she was talking to him?

“It’ll be our secret,” he assured her.

Gwyn nodded, placated, but continued on, “And don’t tell Azriel that I—” one hiccup “—that I—” another hiccup “—that I’m in love with him.”

Her words thundered through him like a flash flood. That I’m in love with him. They twisted through the cracks of his broken, beaten soul, like clean water into the cage that he had never truly emerged from. That I’m in love with him.

Azriel’s heart clanged fiercely in his chest and he had difficulty drawing a breath.

“Okay,” he murmured to her at last, when he had finally gotten a firmer grip on his mental faculties, “I won’t.”

“Good,” Gwyn said. Then she unceremoniously flung herself down onto the bed beside him and closed her eyes. Her copper hair was spread across his pillow like a halo.

Gwyn is lying on my bed. And she’s in love with me. Azriel was pretty sure this was what a brain aneurysm felt like.

As much as he wanted nothing else than Gwyn to be lying in his bed with him—and in love with him, his stupid brain interrupted—he knew if she fell asleep here and woke up beside him, probably a bit closer to sober, that it might freak her out.

So he banished the part of his mind that was throwing a party and managed to say, “Don’t you want to…stay in your bed?”

Gwyn didn’t open her eyes. With sleep tugging on her words, she slurred matter-of-factly, “This is my bed. We already established that.”

Azriel stared at her. Fuck, she really meant it when she said she drank all my whiskey. He barely dared to hope that she really meant everything that she said.

Half-asleep now, Gwyn mumbled, seemingly to herself, “Based on Nesta’s description, Azriel’s cock is definitely bigger than Cassian’s.”

Azriel felt his jaw drop in shock. That Nesta would be talking in such detail. That Gwyn would want to hear such things. More than anything, that she’d be capable of comparing sizes in her drunken state.

A soft snore emanated from Gwyn’s half-open mouth, interrupted by another hiccup. He imagined pulling her close and wrapping her tightly in his arms. Brushing her hair back. Dropping a kiss on her forehead. He imagined her sleepily snuggling against him and nuzzling into his chest. The thought made his heart twist and clench. He realized he wanted those things more badly than he had wanted anything in his life. A secret he’d been carrying around since Solstice, hidden from everyone. For a long time, hidden even from himself. But no longer; he’d known it for a while now.

He indulged a few more moments of watching her snore, smiling at the occasional hiccup that punctuated her deep breathing. But he knew he couldn’t let her sleep here beside him. And even if he went and slept on the couch downstairs, she’d still wake up in his bedroom and be confused or scared or embarrassed.

So Azriel sighed and got out of bed to pull on a pair of pants. Padding around to the other side of the bed, he slid his hands under her shoulders and legs and lifted her into his arms. Just as he had imagined, she curled closer into his bare chest and let out a contented noise. The twisting sensation in his heart tightened painfully. He wondered if he could go on like nothing had happened, if she didn’t remember any of this the next day. Which was fairly likely given how utterly wasted she was.

He carried her through the open door that Gwyn, in her inebriated state, had forgotten to close behind her when she’d entered. He walked down the hall and into her own room where he laid her gently on the bed and pulled the covers over her. Her snoring didn’t cease.

He couldn’t resist brushing a stray lock of hair off her face. Impulsively, he bent down and kissed her brow lightly. He lingered there a moment and then whispered in her ear, “I’m in love with you too.”

He left her room with a long backwards look right before he closed her door softly.

Too keyed up to sleep again, Azriel prowled down the stairs to the library. Both Gwyn and Nesta’s scents lingered in the air. He picked up the half-empty decanter of his best whiskey and rolled his eyes. They were both going to have hellish hangovers tomorrow.

He poured his own glass of whiskey, then sat down on the couch where Gwyn’s scent was strongest, soaking it up, watching the fire burning low.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Azriel was first in the dining room for breakfast the next morning, already at the table when Cassian walked in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“No Nesta this morning?” Azriel asked.

“She’ll be along soon. I think she got really fucked up last night with Gwyn and she’s moving a bit slow this morning.”

Azriel merely grunted in reply, focused on his eggs. He was nervous about what Gwyn would remember. Or wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t decide which was worse.

A few minutes later Nesta and Gwyn stumbled in together, both bleary-eyed and wincing at the light.

“Morning,” Gwyn mumbled as she and Nesta sat down beside each other. She poured a cup of tea for herself.

When she briefly met Azriel’s gaze, his stomach sank like a rock. There was nothing in her eyes that indicated she remembered a single thing from the night before.

Cassian smirked at the females. “Rough night?”

Nesta glared at him with as much irritation that she could muster in her state. Gwyn just stared into her tea with a nauseated look on her face.

Out of nowhere Gwyn yelped and dropped her mug of tea, which shattered on the wooden floor, tea splashing everywhere. She buried her face in her hands, elbows on the table.

“Are you okay?” Nesta croaked, her hand on Gwyn’s shoulder, as the House whipped away the ceramic fragments and puddles of tea on the floor. Gwyn emitted a high-pitched sound that vaguely sounded like an affirmation. “Are you sure?”

“Tea too hot,” Gwyn muttered into her hands, uncharacteristically ungrammatical.

Cassian looked over at Azriel with a confused look on his face. Azriel shrugged.

“Here,” Nesta said, pouring a glass of orange juice and holding it near Gwyn’s face, “Drink some juice.”

Gwyn tilted her head slightly towards Nesta and spread two of her fingers, peeking out between them. While one hand still covered her eyes and forehead, the other snaked out and took the glass. She sipped it.

Azriel tried to get a read on Gwyn, but she didn’t look his way, and her hand still blocked him from gleaning any hint from her face. Gwyn silently took a couple more sips of the juice.

“So exactly how much did you two drink last night?” Cassian asked.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Enough.”

“Clearly,” Cassian snorted.

“Like you’ve never been hungover,” retorted Nesta.

Before Cassian could pull out of his ass what Azriel was sure would be a refreshing come-back, Gwyn let out another yelp, dropped the glass, which also shattered, and quickly stood, knocking her chair back. Her face was flaming red.

“Gwyn!” Nesta exclaimed, but Gwyn didn’t respond and rushed out of the room without looking at any of them.

Nesta gaped and started to rise from her seat, but Azriel motioned at her to sit down. “I’ve got it,” he said, standing up. “You eat some food to soak up that hangover.”

Azriel hurried after Gwyn leaving Nesta and Cassian staring after him in bewilderment. He had a strong suspicion in his mind about what made her lose her shit. Twice.

He followed her scent into the living room, where he found her slumped on the couch with a blanket draped over her head.

“Gwyn,” he whispered soothingly, sitting down on the couch a couple feet away from her.

Gwyn meeped and flung her arms up to wrap around her head over the blanket.

Azriel’s lips twitched. “Are you alright?”

She let out an “uh huh” in the highest pitched voice he’d ever heard.

“Do you want to tell me what you remembered?” he asked softly.

Gwyn slunk down even lower on the couch and moaned.

Azriel just waited. His stomach twisted with nerves, worried that she would say she didn’t mean what she said last night. That it was just the whiskey talking.

“Um,” she mumbled from under the blanket, “How about we just never look at each other ever again?”

“That seems a bit impractical.”

“Then maybe I can just die right here and now.”

“I would be extremely upset if that happened,” he whispered.

Gwyn dropped her hands down, her head still comically draped in the knitted blanket.

“Will you tell me what you remembered?” he repeated patiently.

She finally pulled the blanket away from her head and let it pool at her waist. She studiously kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Azriel watched her throat bob as she swallowed thickly.

“I remember seeing your…um…” Her gaze darted back and forth across the ceiling as she trailed off.

“Mm hmm,” Azriel hummed, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing. “Is that all?”

Gwyn’s eyes, focused on the ceiling, widened, her teeth biting into her lower lip, and she grabbed the blanket and quickly flung it back over her head. Azriel snorted.

He waited a moment before he said again, “Is that all?”

Under the blanket the shape of Gwyn’s head shook back and forth quickly.

“You want to tell me what else you remembered?”

She shook her head vigorously again.

“Why not?”

“It’s too embarrassing,” she wailed.

Embarrassing, he thought, but she didn’t deny saying it or say she didn’t mean it.

Azriel slid closer to her and slowly drew the blanket off her head. Her whole face was scrunched up, scarlet, and her hands flew up to cover it, smacking against her skin.

Throwing caution to the wind, he breathed, “I’m in love with you too.”

Gwyn’s hands lowered slightly, just her round eyes peeping out above her fingertips. “Really?”

“I have been for months,” he admitted.

Her hands dropped, revealing her open mouth. Azriel’s eyes slipped down to gaze at the curve of her lips before snapping back up to her teal eyes.

Her mouth closed part way, the corners pulling up.

Azriel cautiously held out a hand between them, his heart pounding in his chest, wondering if she wouldn’t want to touch his scars. But she did, threading her fingers through his and gripping his hand tightly. Her smile spread.

“It’s been months for me too,” Gwyn murmured.

They smiled at each other like idiots while his thumb stroked over the skin of her palm.

A bubble in Azriel’s chest swelled, larger and larger, until he thought he might float away. Or it could pop, he knew, and leave him deflated and broken. But maybe Gwyn was worth that risk.

He cleared his throat. “Would it be—” He stumbled over his words, strangely unsure of himself. “I—would it be presumptuous to ask if I could—if I could kiss you?”

Gwyn stared at him.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready for that,” he added, his voice soft.

Her tongue slipped out and wet her lips. Azriel watched the movement closely. It was an effort to drag his eyes back up to hers.

Gwyn lifted her arm slightly, her hand still wrapped in his. “Will you pinch me first?”

His brows drew together. “Why would you want me to pinch you?”

“Because I’m sure this is a dream,” she whispered.

Azriel smirked. “You really think you’d be this hungover in a dream?”

Gwyn’s mouth twisted to the side thoughtfully. “Good point.” She gazed at him and he could hear her heart speed up. “Yes,” she said at last, “You can kiss me.”

Azriel’s own heartbeat raced, matching hers. He slowly shifted closer to her. So slowly. Waiting for her to announce that she changed her mind. Waiting for her scent to morph into fear.

But she only kept her eyes on him, hope shining in those teal depths. Her grip on his hand tightened slightly.

Still moving at a snail’s pace, Azriel lowered his mouth to hers, brushing his lips across hers gently. When she opened her mouth, leaning up into him, he responded, deepening the kiss. He kissed her slowly. Languidly. Pulling away a few millimeters, he tenderly rubbed his nose across hers and through lidded eyes watched her smile grow, and then recaptured her lips, this time more intensely, feeling her respond in kind.

With a gasp, Gwyn tore her lips from his and covered her eyes. Her breathing was punctured and arrhythmic.

Azriel’s heart stuttered to a stop, horror flooding his veins.

“I’m sorry,” she moaned, still fighting for shallow breaths. One of her hands reached out to grip his shoulder, as if in apology. “I’m—I’m—I think I’m going to vomit—”

As soon as she uttered the words, the House dropped a bucket on the coffee table in front of them. Gwyn grabbed it and promptly threw up inside.

With both hands, Azriel drew her hair back from her face, gathering it into a ponytail. He held it in one fist and ran his other hand down her back, drawing soothing circles as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the bucket, again and again.

When there was nothing but dry heaves left, her forehead dropped down to rest on her hands that were wrapped around the edge of the bucket. She moaned.

Azriel’s hand didn’t cease in its circles over her back. He murmured, “You feeling better?”

Gwyn moaned again. “This is an auspicious start to our relationship,” she muttered into the bucket.

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Or maybe an auspicious end to your whiskey drinking.”

The House had also left a glass of water on the table, and after Gwyn took a few more deep breaths into the bucket to make sure she wasn’t going to vomit again, she rinsed her mouth with the water, spitting it into the bucket, which the House then whisked away.

Gwyn sagged back against Azriel, resting her head on his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I promise I didn’t throw up because of the kiss,” she said.

Azriel snorted. “I’m pretty confident it was the half bottle of whiskey you consumed.”

Gwyn groaned again. “Stop saying the word whiskey.” She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I threw up in front of you.”

He grinned into the top of her head. “Well, if you had any lingering doubts as to if this is a dream, you vomiting should put that fear to rest.”

A strangled, humorous noise made its way out of Gwyn’s throat. “Great,” she muttered.

Since she didn’t object to the first one, Azriel dropped another kiss over Gwyn’s brow. She snuggled closer into him.

And then she bolted upright, ripping out of his arms. Her eyes were round as saucers, staring at him. “Did I—did I—Mother above—did I say your dick was bigger than Cassian’s?”

Azriel snickered. “Yup.”

Gwyn hid her face in her hands again, a stream of unintelligible words slipping out from behind them.

Azriel leaned forward and kissed her temple. “Don’t worry, love,” he murmured in her ear, “It’s nothing I didn’t already know.”

#gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #azriel #gwyneth berdara #nesta #cassian #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of silver flames #a court of thrones and roses #gwyn x azriel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Hi there, I hope it's not to early for you, may I request a Team Hooligans X Adventurous Darling?

I'll see what I can do, yeah. I hope this works for you :) Did them seperate to make it easier. Sorry for the long wait! Aged up as usual.

I'm not too familiar with them, lol, except for the Sonic aniversary comic from IDW.

Yandere! Team Hooligans with Adventurous! Darling

Short Concept/Reaction

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Possessive behavior, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Stalking implied.

Fang The Sniper

Fang was never one to care for much.

Well, except for riches and his bike.

He's greedy and selfish, taking what he wants even with violence and cruelty.

He probably met you by chance and wanted you ever since.

A treasure he wants to catch no matter the cost.

You're focused on exploration and seeing the world for all it has to offer.

He's more into pillaging the world for its treasure.

With a darling such as you it's got pros and cons.

You like to explore which means he could have you join mercenary work with him, Bean, and Bark.

It would also help Fang justify his sudden attraction towards you.

Then there's the whole getting you to stay put thing.

Fang likes the idea of keeping you to himself.

He wants people to know you are his.

You always wanting to leave his side for adventure frustrates him.

The good thing about being a mercenary with a bike is he can track you easily.

Don't worry, his frustration is solved if you bring him back treasure.

Fang is a yandere easily bought with material goods.

As long as you stay by his side as his and utilize your craving for adventure to benefit the both of you, he'll be okay with this type of darling.

Bean The Dynamite

Bark The Polar Bear

Bean is an unpredictable character a lot of the time.

He'a overly eager and can be friendly one moment while aggressive the next.

Towards his darling, Bean tends to act extremely hyper and excited.

Meanwhile with rivals he's deceptive and aggressive.

He also has a dangerous obsession with bombs.

When he meets you he's all excited to speak with you.

Especially if you have shiny things on your person that you found during adventures.

Bean would probably want to go on adventures with you.

Your craving for adventure is something he enjoys and encourages.

Plus, it keeps him close to you at all times!

Then no one would steal you from him!

Even if you declined him there's no telling how he'll react.

He'll either be very angry with you or follow you anyway.

Bean has a ton of excitement bottled within him.

The idea of going on adventures with his living treasure sounds amazing!

You are going to have a hard time getting rid of him.

Bark actually has some good in him compared to the other two members.

He's mute and strong, sometimes intimidating when he needs to be.

But Bark is softer towards his darling.

When he meets you and your craving for adventure, he's a bit hesitant at first.

Bark is probably overprotective of his darling and is worried for you.

When you say you're going away or something, the bear feels his heart drop.

He'll either try to nudge you out of it or be adamant on following.

He's fierce when fighting and feels he should be his darling's guardian in a way.

Bark cares for your safety but also your happiness.

He'll fuel your need for adventure if you can be kept safe during it.

He also doesn't like the idea of someone else being around you....

While you make him shy at times, he'll quickly turn hostile towards others around you.

Bark will reluctantly come with you on adventures...

Just stay close to him and don't be so friendly towards anyone else.

#yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere fang the sniper #yandere bean the dynamite #yandere bark the polar bear #yandere team hooligans

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whatisreggieshortfor · 2 years

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Vigilante Part Six

Eri!

Requested continuation from @shinningarmorforwar

Aizawa actually offered you the chance to do your work study with him. You couldn’t believe it.

You had hoped, you hadn’t wanted to work with some random pro you couldn’t put your faith in, but you were stunned when it happened. Sure, you’d been training with him for a over a year now, almost to the end of your first year at UA, but it still seemed shocking that he had taken a special interest in you. The commission hadn’t wanted to grant you a provisional license, because of your lack of Quirk and your track record for going after villains anyway, but Aizawa had fought them tooth and nail about it. He had defended you, and the fact that you had already passed the exam, and in the end they didn’t feel they had any other choice but to grant it. The whole class celebrated, even though they had gotten theirs too, they celebrated you. The first Quirkless hero. Chasm had made an appearance, much to their excitement, and you practically feel the pride radiating from him. You couldn’t believe you made him that way.

Admittedly, the work study wasn’t glamorous. Eraserhead was underground, so you spent your time patrolling unseen and doing stealth training, which is how you preferred it anyway. He’d mentioned in passing that there would be a case he’d been recruited on, and you could take part or sit it out. But, while he wouldn’t tell you what it was, he only told you that it involved working closely with Sir Nighteye. You knew the name, you had met him only once with your father when you were around eight. He had shaken your hand, and then told your father that you should find a ‘safer’ job and that he should ‘stop filling your head with nonsense about being a hero’.

You had assumed he was a bigot.

But then you heard him arguing with Aizawa after a meeting, telling your mentor that your forecasted death would happen swiftly and painful if he took you along on the mission.

You pretended you didn’t hear.

This was what you wanted to do with your life, and you prepared to give your life over to it.

But you knew that Aizawa knew that you heard.

He kept his eyes on you, being more critical of any seemingly reckless behavior, and it was during one of those scoldings that you almost trip over a little girl as she sprinted her way out of an alley as fast as her little legs would take her. You dropped to your knees instantly, inspecting her scared face and the bandages wrapped around her limbs, while still remaining hyper focused on the man exiting the alley behind her a short distance away. “Eri, don’t trouble these nice people. I’m sorry, she’s my daughter. You know how children can be, I’m sure. The slightest hint of anger and they get rather upset.”

You weren’t stupid, though feigning it could always come in handy, and you let out a laugh, “I’m sure he does. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten him into trouble because someone took something I did the wrong way even though they had good intentions.” You kept a firm grip on her hand, letting her squeeze your fingers as tightly as she needed, and Aizawa seemed to understand your approach as he held his tongue. “Does she have a cat? My friend Mina, she tried to pet a stray the other and the poor thing got scared and scratched her up something fierce.” You angled yourself between the two of them, checking Eri, as he called her, over for ‘cat scratches’. With your back to him, you mouthed the words very delicately, ‘Does he hurt you?’ She gave you a shaky, but almost imperceptible nod. You spoke with finality, “That explains it. Cats can be such fickle things. You know, this dark and gloomy looking man has some cats of his own. I’m sure he’d love to show you some pictures while I talk to your dad about the best way to clean these up. Would you like that?” She glanced at Aizawa, before glancing back at the man and you followed her gaze to see him toying with his gloves.

“N-no! It- it’s okay! D-daddy can do it.” Meeting Aizawa’s eyes, you made the same deduction. It’s a touch Quirk.

You gave her a bright smile, scooping her up before she could run back to him, “It’s no trouble, princess. He loves to gush about his furballs.” You passed her over to Aizawa, who had his phone out with pictures up to distract her, and he kept her turned away as you snapped your bow staff into full extension.

The fight was messy. The man didn’t seem to know how to fight hand to hand, the downfall of relying too heavily on a Quirk over the years, and you were sparing him no mercy. You were fighting for an injured child. Recovery Girl had looked you both over, you had very minor cuts and bruises, but when she told you what she observed the girl had been through, Aizawa had to stop you from paying the man a visit in jail.

The case briefing came far too soon. You had spent every moment you weren’t in class spending time at the hospital with her, getting her accustomed to a familiar face she could associate with safety instead of pain. Recovery Girl had been the only medical professional permitted into her room for the same reason.

But today was a different day. You were sat in the conference room, much to Sir Nighteye’s obvious chagrin, with Eraserhead beside you. Midoriya, Kirishima, Uraraka, and Tsu were each there with the hero training them, and you saw UA’s Big Three, too.

Nighteye launched into the mission objective, the granddaughter of a former Yakuza head was being used to make Quirk erasing bullets. Apparently Amajiki had been hit with one, but the effects had worn off, and Kirishima’s hardening had rendered the dart aimed at him useless. Admittedly, you were only half listening, until you saw a face take over the screen. Blinking, you decided to comment, “Oh, hey. It’s that guy.”

Aizawa sighed, “Yes, problem child. It’s that guy.”

“That guy?” Kirishima prompted, head tilted slightly, his hair spikes almost poking Amajiki in the face.

You nodded, “We ran into him on a patrol like…two, maybe three weeks ago? He was abusing a little girl.”

Tsu pressed her finger to her chin, “Ribbit, that girl you’ve been visiting? The one you told me about?”

You beamed, and your classmates were struck with a sense of how much spending time with her was changing you. You had been so different at the beginning of the year. “Yeah! Her name is Eri and-“

“Excuse me.” Your head turned to where Sir Nighteye was standing, clearly irritated with his eye twitching, “This girl?” He clicked to the next image, a shaky picture of the girl you’d found, so you nodded. “You saved this girl from the head of the Shie Hassaikai? You did?”

You raised a brow, you original stony expression settling onto your face, “Yes. I did. Don’t know why you’re so damn surprised. He was just like you- relied to heavily on a Quirk so he didn’t know how to fight.” You saw Mirio suck in a breath at your words, Midoriya looking nervous about the way you spoke to his mentor.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It is. I am aware that you don’t think I should be here, how much of that is because a vision you saw when I was a child, and how much of that is because I’m Quirkless, I’ll never know. But I will tell you this, I am going to stay here. And I am going to do my job. And like Deku I’m going to do it with a damn smile on my face. Now, are you going to tell us what the rest of the case entails, or is it over since the head is in custody and the girl is saved?” Scattered pros around the room looked impressed, Nighteye looked lost without the control of the canversation being his, and Aizawa just looked proud.

“Lante,” Tsu murmured through the silence, “You’re my hero.”

You snorted as your classmates grinned at the speechless adults.

Vigilante Masterlist

#my hero academia #my hero academia x male reader #vigilante reader #quirkless reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero fanfic

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 1 year

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“A fierce warrior like her father and all the brains of her stunning mother. Little Miss Redfox is the first wizard to ever learn and master the art of dragon slaying from scratch.”

Stay tuned to have a look at this new character I’m drawing now. As my creative brain does when hyper-focusing on something, I’ve dreamed up a character for the Fairy Tail universe. First the image of what she would look like popped into my head and as I started putting her on a canvas, a more detailed background began to write itself in my brain. I’ll share it as soon as I finish the drawing but I haven’t even finished the outline yet lol. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted but if there’s a good reaction to the drawing and background, I might write a series on it. Anyway, keep an eye out!

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanart #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #gajevy

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soulvedablog · 5 months

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Standing tall amid adversity: Virali Modi inspires us to live life queen-size

Read Virali Modi's inspirational story of bouncing back from tragedy; How this disability rights activist, model, and motivational speaker transformed the greatest adversity of her life into her strength.

By Team Soulveda

15 March 2023

It was in the year 2006 that life changed for Virali Modi, an Indian teenager living in the US. When she returned home after visiting India for a month, she developed a severe infection. What was supposedly malaria led to severe complications. Fate had something else in store for this 15-year-old, who soon after slipped into a coma that lasted 23 days. As she came out of it, she thought her ordeal was finally over until she discovered she had become paralyzed from the neck down.

Modi, with immense support from her parents, rebuilt herself and emerged stronger. A disability rights activist, a model and a motivational speaker, today Virali uses her voice for disability rights and awareness. A role model with an unshakeable resolve, hers is an inspirational story of bouncing back thriving from tragedy.

What has been your biggest learning in this inspiring journey of conquering a debilitating infection and its aftermath?

This is a very difficult question to answer because I have learned so much about myself and I continue to do so. The process of growth is never-ending. The biggest thing that I learned is that my disability does not define me. What define me are my actions – how I present myself, talk to people and the kind of relationships that I maintain.

I have realized that the wheelchair is actually incredibly empowering to me. I have always been looked down upon. People have always told me that I can’t achieve this or that due to my disability. People basically just look at me with sympathy.

But I decided to use this wheelchair to conquer life. What others think of me, does not matter. What I think about myself and who I am as a person – that’s what matters. It took a lot of time to get used to this thought process. But learning how to love and accept yourself in every single way is very important if you want to win over life.

Please tell us about your childhood and the unfortunate chain of events that changed the course of your life.

I was born in Mumbai and only a month old when we shifted to the US. I was not always disabled so had a fairly normal childhood. And yes, disabled is the term that I prefer to use.

I was great in academics, sports, and dance, so the disability was incredibly life-changing. I was in the hospital for 23 days in a coma. I woke up to find that I couldn’t walk or move my hands. However, I was raised in a very optimistic household. The word impossible just did not exist in my dictionary. I understood that I needed to have the right perspective, the right upbringing and a healthy environment to achieve anything and everything I dreamed of.

Who has been your biggest support in this fight to get back to life after such a fierce battle?

That would definitely have to be my parents.

My dad is an emotional person and would cry occasionally, but he was still there for me. But the one person who ensured that I was taken care of and my dad was taken care of too, was my mom.

My mom is a rock-solid person who ensured that any and all negativity was far away. She was barely getting any sleep herself but tirelessly taught me how to love myself. It was like a domino effect – my mom’s energy, optimism and encouragement rubbed off on my father and finally on me. If it wasn’t for them, I would not be who I am today.

You participated in the Miss India wheelchair pageant. What were the challenges faced?

I hadn’t been on stage after my disability. I think the biggest challenge for me was bringing forth my confidence and self-esteem. I was truly scared, to say the least. So when the time came, I went up on the stage and hyper-focused on my mom, and it was just like talking to her rather than the whole audience.

The pageant was such a humbling experience. Soon after, when I started going to auditions for modelling assignments, it was disheartening to be told that I am pretty but the disability is a barrier. I came back wondering why couldn’t they see the talent and personality that I had? But now when I look back, I understand that those experiences were necessary as well.

Tell us about your big break post the pageant and what were the obstacles on your way to becoming a model.

My big break happened in 2018 with Salman Khan’s Being Human. That was such an amazing experience, but I also realized how inaccessible studios and sets are for someone with a disability. Other than that, it was a great experience. It literally created a platform for me to rise high and work with different brands.

But again, the designers, stylists and production people lacked the basic awareness about disability. It was tough proving myself repeatedly, that I could be a working model with long working hours too, that I was just as capable as the next model or the actor without a disability.

There is a lot of conversation about inclusivity. In your 15-year journey, do you think we’ve been able to stand up to the promise as a society?

We need more people with disabilities out and about in the public and in mainstream media. That is when awareness, sensitization and inclusivity will truly be there. We need way more representation in mainstream media, films, ads and on the ramp. I think we have a long way to go, but this is a start.

Today, so many people with disabilities are sharing their lives on social media. I am very proud of this community and the important content they are creating on the internet for everyone to see and understand.

What do you think requires a change – the mindset of people towards disability or the infrastructure to support the disabled?

Both. Once you have accessibility, as in when ramps are available for people with disabilities, you will see more of them out and about. We need people with disabilities to be able to do their own thing, live their lives work, party, go to music festivals, etc. When others will see them more often, that’s when the mindset will change.

But if we don’t have proper infrastructure for them, how will they be able to do so? Consequently, then how do we hope that society will get sensitized towards people with disabilities if they see them so less?

What are the steps we can take to strengthen the infrastructure?

Today, 9 railway stations in India are accessible to the disabled. It was only made possible by my petition and relentless pursue to bring about necessary change in public spaces. Fortunately, my request was well understood by people across; from politicians to the common man, I received great support in my work and the results are there for all to see. That said, a lot of work is yet to be done.

It is essential to use social media to spread awareness. Documented social media is so powerful. Starting petitions, talking to local restaurants and society associations about making their spaces more accessible is also a must. If you find there is a lack of facility needed for someone with a disability in a public space, start helping by talking about it.

Everyone in this world is temporarily abled. It might sound bitter but that is a fact. So one day or the other, you or anyone that you know is going to require an assistive mobility device. We can’t go out and renovate every place to be accessible. But the least we can do is raise our voices and request, or rather demand that things get steadily accessible for all.

What is the kind of future that you envision?

Honestly, I am just trying to be me. I am engaged and getting married this year! I just want people to know that even though one has a disability, one can live and lead a very ‘normal lifestyle’.

Also, social media has played a big role in making this topic relevant among the masses. I am looking forward to working with brands, giving motivational talks and through it all, trying to change people’s mindset and improve the country’s infrastructure towards the disabled. That’s what I love and believe in.

Most importantly, I want to let people know that even with a disability, nothing can stop you. It’s only your mindset that can stop you from living life you desire.

#conversations

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unforth · 3 years

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So, English-Speaking Danmei Fandom, You Want to Support Authors...

...and so do I, so here’s my dumb white English-more-or-less-only (I speak a small amount of Japanese...it vaguely sort of kind of helps) speaking ass, doing a little homework that hopefully will help others? This is not exhaustive, not complete, not better than resources others have made, but I checked things I personally cared about, and since I’ve done the research, I figure I might as well toss the info out into the wild.

First - as Suika linked, HERE IS AN AMAZING GUIDE TO HELP YOU MAKE A JJWXC ACCOUNT and it teaches you how to use it. It was created by Shoko Translates and it’s incredibly clear and easy to use and you should use it and trust anything they say over literally anything in this post, because I only have the vaguest idea what I’m talking about but they know their shit.

Google translate on Chrome works decently to make the site English...but doesn’t work well in any other respect; overall it functions WAY better on Firefox even if it’s umpteen times harder to figure out what anything says.

Use the guide to make your account; I couldn’t get it to successfully send my phone a text, but I had zero problems when I switched to e-mail. Chrome translate is definitely easier for making the actual account, but then it’s better to switch.

Once you’ve got the account and you log in...

...so, I have no idea what either of those two I’ve circled say (USE THE LINKED GUIDE, IT’LL TELL YOU) but I know that if you click either of them, you get a huge list of authors and book titles, with genre notes, hits, publication date, etc. More importantly, you get a search bar - you can see it right below my silly black circle.

Congratulations, you can now find the things you want to support using search! The first option in the search drop down is book, and it brings up the actual book but also a lot of superfluous stuff. I had way better luck searching by author, which is the second option on the drop down menu.

Now that you know how to search - when I sat down with this today, my goal wasn’t yet to actually pay for anything, I just wanted a sense of how many points things would cost, and I wanted to be able to look that up. So, that’s this post’s goal, and sorry I’m a little disjointed in presenting that out, I got like no sleep last night. Anyway. The point is, based on that link I provided (DID YOU USE IT YET? YOU SHOULD):

10,000 points on JJWXC cost approximately USD 17. Convert as needed for your own currency. Or, one point costs 0.17 cents. (To be clear: that's about 2 tenths of a cent, not 17 cents.)

With that basic conversion, once you have an account, you can see how many points things cost, and therefore calculate how much they’d cost you in $$$ to support the author. Anyway, I haven’t actually figured out ANY of the money parts of this yet, because I wanted to figure out how many points the books I would want to support were before I even attempted money stuff. My thinking with this post was - if you, like me, were holding back cause you were wondering about expense...well, here, have some answers about expense, and probably in a day or four I’ll sit down and try to figure out the money part, and I’ll do another post then. Or, you can just use that guide I linked. Cause that’s what I’m going to do.

So, what/who do you want to support?

Priest (search for author: priest)

镇魂 (Zhen Hun/Guardian). Point cost: 1,742. In USD: $2.96

天涯客 (Tian Ya Ke/Faraway Wanderers/Word of Honor). Point cost: 943. In USD: $1.60

有匪 (You Fei/Legend of Fei). Point cost: 3,031. In USD: $5.15

默读 (Mo Du). Point cost: 3,506. In USD: $5.96

杀破狼 (Sha Po Lang). Point cost: 2,673. In USD: $4.54

七爷 (Qi Ye/Lord Seventh). Point cost: 934. In USD: $1.59

(This is not an exhaustive list, but you can search for others - the Priest Wikipedia page gives a full list of Chinese names, translations, adaptations, etc.)

墨香铜臭 (Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, search for author: 墨香铜臭)

天官赐福 (Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official’s Blessing). Point cost: 5,270. In USD: $8.96

If 魔道祖师 (Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed) and 人渣反派自救系统 (Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong/The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System/Scum System/Scum Villain) are on there, I wasn’t able to find them - someone who knows more than I, and has the time to the research right now, will have to explain more to help with those, but for starters, they’re on the publishers website - Scum Villain; MDZS)

肉包不吃肉 (Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou/Meatbun Doesn’t Eat Meat, search for author: 肉包不吃肉)

二哈和他的白猫师尊 (Er Ha He Ta De Bai Mao Shizun/The Husky and His White Cat Shizun/Hao Yixing/Immortality). Point cost: 7,246. In USD: $12.32

余污 (Yu Wu/Remnants of Filth). Point cost: 4,245. In USD: $7.22

梦溪石 (Meng Xi Shi, search for author: 梦溪石)

千秋 (Qianqiu/Thousand Autumns). Point cost: 2,783. In USD: $4.73

(There are many others.)

漫漫何其多 (Man Man He Qi Duo, search for author: 漫漫何其多)

当年万里觅封侯 (Dangnian Wanli Mi Feng Hou/Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine). Point cost: 1,551. In USD: $2.64

(Again, there are many others.)

I could go add titles for years, but, well, it’s my post, and these are the stories I was most interested in supporting personally. Doing ALL this research, AND writing it up for this post, took me less than an hour, and once you’re in the website and have bought points, you can select all chapters with a single click, it’ll tell you the final point cost, and with another click - bam, you’re done, you’ve bought the raws. You’ve supported the original creator. You’ve done what translators have been begging us to do for ages. And, if it’s a story that’s not all out yet - you’ve got the raws! You can mtl them! You can read them before the translators are done! Or, if you’ve got a fave author? You can read their work in progress! You can learn what’s coming next! Even without speaking Chinese (I don’t speak a word of Chinese!!!) there is NO DOWNSIDE HERE.

(also, can I point out how INCREDIBLY SMALL some of these dollar amounts are? Some of ya’ll are acting like this is bank-breaking, I mean seriously, COME ON.)

Google is your friend. Find the carrd for your fave. Copy and paste the author’s name in Chinese. Use the JJWXC search. Find the thing. Support it.

English danmei fandom, this is our chance to do better.

PLEASE, can we do fricken better??? It’s so easy. And so cheap. And these fandoms have brought so many of us so much joy.

Go forth, and do the thing.

I’m doing it.

(edited: I DID do it! Part 2!)

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arc-misadventures · 2 years

Note

More Jaune arc the traitor what does Adam think of the relationship between Sienna and Jaune

On Your Left

Adam: Oww…

Jaune: Ahem…! O…?!

Adam: Don’t! Don’t say it… please don’t say it…

Jaune: …

Jaune: On your left~!

Adam: Rahhh?!!

Jaune: Oh, this will never get old~!

Adam: It is! It’s very old! Will you ever stop?!

Jaune: As soon as you remember one very, very important lesson, you know what that is; Hmm? Hmmm?!

Adam: Haaa… Watch my blindside…?

Jaune: Yes! Watch your literal blindside! And, before you ask, I will continue to exploit it until you learn to watch it!

Adam: Rahh! I don’t have this problem at, Beacon! Why is it only with you?

Jaune: 1: I trained you; I taught you the majority of the things you know. So therefore, I have an unfair advantage against you. 2: I am well, well know for being a highly skilled strategist; you know this. So this means…?

Adam: Because you’ve know me for years, and because of that, you how I think too…?

Jaune: Correct. I’ve know you long enough, I know how you think and how to exploit it. And, how do I do that?

Adam: …

Jaune: …

Adam: You kept attacking me hard to my right flank, and only my right flank… Forcing me to focus all of my attention on the right… Wearing me down bit by bit with each attack… Then, you fainted an attack from the right, and quickly hit me hard on the left?

Jaune: Excellent! That’s precisely what I did! You’re fatal flaw is that you can become rather, pardon the expression, bullheaded. Forgetting about everything else, hyper focusing on what’s ahead of you. I just need to rile you up and then hit your blindside.

Adam: ‘Pardon the expression…?’

Jaune: No.

Adam: Grahh?!!

Jaune: Oh, get up ya big baby. We’re done training for today. I don’t want to rough you up too much, now do we? You’re going back to Beacon in a few days as is. Can’t send you back with your leg in a cast.

Adam: You wouldn’t do that! R-Right…?

Jaune: Intentionally. After all…

Adam: You never know what’s going to happen in the next five minutes.

Jaune: Oi! That’s my line!

Adam: Hehe!

Jaune: Cheeky bugger… So, are you ready to go back?

Adam: More or less. I just need to do some packing, and I’ll be ready to go back.

Jaune: No, what I meant was: Are you ready to go back, with Blake?

Adam: Oh… With, Blake… uhh… yeah…

Jaune: You’re not ready.

Adam: Absolutely not…

Jaune: Okay… Want my advice?

Adam: Please! You’re dating, Sienna Khan! If anyone knows how to deal with a fierce cat lady, its you!

Jaune: Okay, first off, Blake is nothing like, Sienna. If you upset, Blake she would give the cold shoulder for a few days, and after a while. And, after you apologize she’ll come back to you. If you upset, Sienna, she would rip off your horns with her bare hands and gut you with them.

Adam: …

Adam: Has she actually…?

Jaune: …

Adam: Best not to ask…

Jaune: Smart lad. That being said; she has permission from, Kali to do just that, and more to you if you upset her baby in anyway.

Adam: N-Noted…

Jaune: Good.

Adam: Jaune, can I ask a you a question?

Jaune: Shoot.

Adam: The relationship between me, and Blake… do you think I could make it something like you, and Sienna have?

Jaune: Oh~! Has my little brother finally reached the cusps of adult hood and has learned of the beauty od woman and finally fallen in love?! This is a momentous occasion! Stand still, I need to send a photo to, Kali!

Adam: No! No photos! Stop! Stop that!

Jaune: Hehe… You’re too easy to tease.

Adam: Am not!

Jaune: Only when, Blake is involved. You’ve always been a blushing mess around her.

Adam: What, am not!

Jaune: You keep believing that bud…

Adam: Nahhh! Forget that; do you think we have a chance or not?

Jaune: Yes. But, it all depends on you.

Adam: What do you mean?

Jaune: Adam, I honestly never thought I would ever be romantically involved with an… anyone, after what I did. Then, Sienna came along and made sure that didn’t happen. My life has become much, much better ever since that day. My biggest regret would be if I ever lost it… Haa… I think you two have a chance of becoming something more. So long as you are able to keep, and maintain it that is.

Adam: Do you think I can?

Jaune: Don’t think you can; prove that you can! You understand?

Adam: Y-Yeah, I understand.

Jaune: Good, very good. Keep that up, and you just might get what you desire.

Adam: Alright, let’s do this!

Jaune: That’s the spirit! Now, lets go and get something to eat. I’m starving.

Adam: Yeah, me too.

Jaune: By the by; The threat about Sienna gutting you with your horns still stands.

Adam: Noted…

Jaune: Good~!

\\\

Side note about this story:

Jaune is older in this, late twenties, Sienna in her early twenties.

Jaune saved Adam at a young age after he got branded. So, Adam isn’t as angry as he was in Og RWBY, but, he’s still scarred. The pair have developed a brotherly relationship since then.

Jaune has been at, Menagerie for a long time now, and has been living there as a huntsman helping defend it from Grimm, and training future, Hunters to help defend it. Including Adam, and Blake.

More in later updates.

Till later then.

#rwby #jaune arc #adam taurus #blake belladonna #sienna khan #kali belladonna #sienna x jaune #jaune x sienna #rwby tigherknight #traitor of atlas

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runawaymun · 3 years

Note

Hey there! I love your writing ❤️ Could I please request something fluffy for Lindir, with a reader that is like really though on the outside as a defense mechanism, bc she had a bad childhood. But with him she's very sweet and caring. I hope it's ok, and thank you!

Fem!Reader x Lindir - Porcupine

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, romance - with a dash of mild angst because I can’t help myself. warnings: Just a mild reader injury and implications of a less-than-stellar childhood, per the prompt. for: @who-ever-said-i-was-nice reader pronouns: she/her Sindarin translations: Uchnuad - stupid thalielen mell nín - my beloved champion

“It does not hurt,” you insist.

Glorfindel looks so mournfully penitent and you want to smack that expression off his face. Of course, your shoulder does hurt where he’d knocked you back during your sparring match, but it’s second nature to ignore it and you’ll be fine in a minute anyway. He’s working on you with your footwork and the last thing you want is to be babied.

“Should I walk you to the healing halls? Maybe to Lia, or Lord Elrond--?”

“--Glorfindel! I am fine.” It comes out sharper than you had intended, and he winces. “Can we get on with the match?”

Reluctantly, he takes up his training sword again and you yours. By the end you’re sweaty and your knuckles are bruised and a little bloody from where Glorfindel landed a hit, but you’re getting better at your footwork and making it harder for him to strike, and the more it hurts the more fiercely you ignore it until eventually he ends the match for both of you.

“I can keep going.”

“No,” Glorfindel lowers his sword and steps away from you. “You will stop.”

“Uchnuad,” you mutter as you stalk out. Two of the other elves sparring in the training yard give you apprehensive stares, unable to believe that you’ve called the balrog slayer stupid. That was the other thing: the more pain you were in, the spikier you got. You put your training sword away and kept your face purposefully neutral as you went up to your room to wash up.

Maybe you hate yourself a little bit, but you’re not sure if that’s because of the weakness or how mean you get to everyone when you sense that you might be vulnerable. The longer you stay in Imladris, the harder it is to keep wearing your shell, but relinquishing it scares you. It has served you well since you were small.

Lindir’s in your bedroom when you reach it, dusting an already-clean bookshelf. He’s hyper-focused on it and doesn’t turn to look at you, instead asking:

“How did your training go?”

“Fine,” you grumble, unbuckling your boots so you don’t track mud in. He hates that so much.

He looks up and his eyes grow round and luminous. “You’re hurt.”

“Fuck it all! I am fine! I won’t break!” you exclaim, yanking one boot off and hurling it to where it goes next to the door.

He flinches at the profanity. You’re not sure you’ve ever even heard Elvish soldiers swear, let alone sweet, proper, anxious Lindir. You hate the flinch. You hate that you’re the reason for it, even though it isn’t anything like your flinches whenever someone reaches for you too quickly or raises their voice.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, standing awkwardly at the threshold and feeling like an intruder. You bend to slide off your other boot and collect its twin from where you’ve thrown it and set them both neatly by the door. Satisfied that you won’t track dirt onto his clean floor, you come over and take his hand in your own and bring it up to your mouth to kiss his knuckles, then his palm. “I’m sorry,” you say again. “I just don’t like people fussing over me, is all.”

“Then I fear you are in the wrong place,” he says, voice warm with shy humor. He squeezes your hand. “Lord Elrond so likes to take care of people and Glorfindel is the most overprotective ellon I know, and I-- I am just about the fussiest, neurotic creature--”

“--I love it,” you interrupt before he can slide down some self-depreciative slope.

His small, pink mouth opens in a little surprised ‘o’ and he blushes to the tips of his perfect ears. You link your arms around his trim waist and draw him close to you, resting your forehead against his.

“And I think you’re just about the only person who I’d let fuss over me.”

He shifts to press an adoring kiss to your forehead and his eyes fall to the mud splattered on the front of your breastplate and he can’t help but use his cleaning cloth to polish it off.

“Then allow me to fuss, thalielen mell nín.”

#lord of the rings #the hobbit #lindir #lindir x reader #lotr x reader #lindir x you #lotr imagine #And Rohan Will Answer! (Requests)#here it is finally!#I hope you like it!#Lindir is another one of my favorites omg #and surprise Glorfindel cameo because I can

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odettealiferous · 2 years

Text

@evilovesyou and I were discussing the enormous implications if Lan Sizhui was killed on a night hunt or something. There’s so many ways it could go down. The ethical decision that would have to be made between Wangxian and Wen Ning as to whether or not they would choose to bring him back as a fierce corpse or let him rest.

There’s Wei Wuxian grieving for the boy he’s known since he was a child and throwing himself back into reanimating him just as he did Wen Ning. Hours and hours spent practically destroying his new golden core by practicing more demonic cultivation than ever. Hyper focusing on what will bring his son back to life. Desperate for a solution. Blaming himself for what happened and not being there for him AGAIN.

Meanwhile, there’s Lan Zhan who is forced to relieve the nightmare of seeing another one of his loved ones die in front of him again. The child he literally named in his grief taken away from him. The child he gave his family name. He watches his husband exhaust and harm himself using demonic cultivation to try and fix it. He thinks and thinks and doesn’t know whether to tell Wei Wuxian to let him rest, or let Lan Sizhui come back as a fierce corpse just as Wen Ning did.

Then you have Wen Ning, who is witnessing exactly what happened to him happen to the last other person in his bloodline. He watches on knowing the implications of being a fierce corpse. He knows Lan Sizhui would be resigned to being an outsider, and not being welcome anywhere he went, just as he is. No longer having full autonomy over himself, and knowing how much harm that could cause. To bring him back was to resign Sizhui to a life like his… Wen Ning wonders if it’s worth it.

Then if Sizhui is brought back as a fierce corpse, the aftermath of that. Then there is all three of them coming to terms with the fact this sweet kid has resentment. He wakes up and doesn’t remember who they are. Kind and gentle Sizhui is suddenly violent. He is unlike the Sizhui they knew and loved, and the three of them start working and helping him through it.

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #fierce corpse Lan Sizhui #angst #wangxian #wei wuxain #lan zhan #wen ning #I will post something happy for this fandom one day #lan sizhui #a yuan

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oh-no-my-hand-slipped · 3 years

Note

A new prompt for you! (Finally :3)

I'm picturing multiple couples or a family group (4+ adults) who share a cottage together in the middle of nowhere, living off the land. Winter is coming, bringing with it its chill winds and early dustings of snow. The people are hard at work every day, chopping wood and putting aside the last of the food for winter.

It's the worst possible time to get sick, yet someone does, coming down with a miserable, streaming cold and high fever. What do they do about it? How do the others respond?

Could have definite cottage core elements, or fantasy (since you're so good at writing that!) or contagion if you choose. Can't wait to see the results :)

It’s been so long since I’ve written a real, honest to god fic, so this will be my debut back into snzfucker favor!

Okay, okay, who to include in this house of contagion?

We need a soft healer boi that takes care of everyone before themselves, of course. A very strong, stoic, hardworking warrior with muscles of steel - but the same can’t be said for his immune system. A hyper comic relief (like if Scout from TF2 was in a fantasy setting) that insists he isn’t sick, but can’t keep back his sneezes long enough to prove his point. And, of course, a tall, thin scholar whose cold heart is only melted by his fever.

Adventurers packing it in for the winter and preparing for journeying in the spring, now only at most a few yards from each other and having shot immune systems from the exhausting work. Illness doesn’t have to travel far to infect…

Oh, this is gonna be good.

***********************

“Look look look! Otto, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Barlow skidded to a halt, almost tripping over his own two feet before regaining his balance. Otto chuckled.

“Alright, alright, que pasa? What is so exciting?”

Barlow fumbled with his cloak before pulling a shiny coin out of one of the pockets.

“I got this off a path when I was pickin’ berries! Must’ve been a merchant or something…”

Barlow’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Or maybe a warrior! Ooh, or a knight! Definitely somebody with a cape.”

He flung the back of his cloak behind him and stood tall, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. However, Barlow couldn’t keep the pose long - the frigid air made him close the thin burlap around himself again, shivering. Otto knitted their brow.

“You’re wearing your summer cloak,” they said, looking Barlow up and down. “You must be freezing, chiquito!”

Barlow waved his hand, as if batting away Otto’s concern.

“Don’t worry about it, doc. It’s gonna take more than a little wind to get me down.”

As if to prove a point, he spread out his arms and spun around, laughing at the many leaves he kicked up.

Otto would usually be charmed by the sprite’s antics, but their concern soon outweighed their amusement.

“Just make sure to change into your winter clothes soon, okay? I would hate for you to get sick.”

Barlow stopped spinning, coughing a bit as he caught his breath with chilly autumn air. His hot breath clouded around his face like smoke.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, “I’ll grab it when I go by the cottage. Forgot my basket anyway. See you around, doc.”

With a quick salute, Barlow ran off, cloak billowing behind him, still clenching the coin in a tight fist. Otto shook their head and sighed. They knew that Barlow just didn’t want them to worry - but that only made them worry more. The healer in them couldn’t help but notice red-tipped fingers, congested voices, and pallid complexions. Besides, with a harsh winter underway, a cold could very quickly rear its ugly head, turning into bronchitis, pneumonia, and even infect a person’s magic…

Otto took a deep breath. Their thoughts had run away with them - and now, more than ever, it was important to stay focused.

The doctor gathered up their scrolls, pulled their coat close, and started back to the cottage.

Perhaps a little tea would calm their nerves.

***************

“it’CHEW! CHEW!”

“Salud.”

“Ugh…thanks, doc. Snf!”

Otto looked up from his knitting to see Barlow rubbing his long, pointy ears with a pained look on his face.

“Do your ears hurt?”

Barlow put his hands in his lap. “No! Just, uh, a little itchy.”

Severin, who had been reading on the sofa across from Otto, hid a smirk behind the yellowed pages.

“Someone must be talking about you,” he drawled smugly. “Considering the way you conduct yourself, I’m not surprised.”

Instead of snapping back, Barlow still scratched at his ears. Severin slit his eyes and continued to read. He almost seemed disappointed.

“Could be thragweed,” Godric rumbled from a large wooden stool, rubbing his beard in thought, “but they usually shrivel up by the first frost. Didja see any three-leaved plants while you were out foragin’?”

Barlow shrugged, wincing as he rubbed harder. “Um…maybe?”

Otto frowned. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep scratching like that.”

“S-sorry, I…huh-hold on…”

Barlow buried himself in his cloak, with only his mop of red hair showing.

“hit’SHEW! Huh…it’TCHEW!”

The sprite continued to let out sneeze after sneeze, his wrinkled, pink nose only showing when he needed to come up for air. Otto got up from their chair, and they were soon holding him by the shoulders to keep him from knocking himself over.

Barlow finally finished, snuffling into his sleeve. He looked up at Otto with bleary eyes.

“Sorry, doc, I don’d dow whad’s gotten into be…”

Otto hushed him with a gentle pat, using their free hand to feel Barlow’s forehead. They clucked their tongue.

“Oh, mijo, you have a fever...”

Barlow’s breath caught, and he coughed into his shoulder. “Nah, I…I’b okay, Otto, really. I’ll be…snrk…fide in the morning. Just gotta sleep it off…”

Otto smiled gently. “Well, you’re right about one thing. A good night’s sleep is exactly what you need. And maybe a little salve for your poor ears…”

Their hand still on Barlow’s shoulder, Otto guided the sprite to his bedroom, mumbled protests and miserable sneezes trailing behind them.

***************

Barlow’s fever never grew very high - his burning ears and nose, however, kept him up for most of the night. By the time morning came, he was too exhausted to even feign health. Otto had to put him back to bed, which was only met with pitiful murmurings.

“‘M fide, doc, I…hetch’CHIIIEW!”

“Pobrecito! You sound even worse than yesterday…”

“C’mon, Otto, I…”

“I don’t want to see you out of bed today, okay, cariño? You need to rest.”

“Nngh…”

Otto and Severin split the foraging work, since their respective jobs were mostly planning and budgeting the winter ahead of them. Godric promised to keep a good eye on the patient, but that didn’t lessen the doctor’s worry any.

“I wonder how Barlow’s doing,” Otto murmured, probably for the umpteenth time since they’d begun their work.

Severin scrutinized his severely pricked thumb. “Children always carry around such nasty things. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught the plague instead of a simple cold.”

Otto froze mid-pick, and Severin hurried to correct himself.

“Peace, my friend. It is just a cold, after all.

He grimaced.

“One I dearly hope he keeps to himself.”

They both continued to fill their baskets with berries, wiping the frost off their shiny, black skins. However, Otto’s mind continued to race.

I shouldn’t have left him. Godric only knows so much. What happens if his fever spikes? I’m a healer, I’m not supposed to leave the sick behind. Should I go back? I should go back. No, I promised Barlow I’d get his foraging done. But I can’t keep a promise if he’s dead. What if he’s already dead? What if Godric’s on his way right now to tell me? What if I’m already too late? How will we bury him, the ground is too hard. Otto, your friend has died and all you can think about is how to bury him. You must be the most selfish -

“Otto.”

Otto snapped back to reality to see Severin giving him a fierce side-eye.

“It’s only a cold.”

Otto took a deep breath. “Right. Gracias. I…I lost myself, didn’t I?”

The afternoon went by in a quiet fervor, both of them trying to fill their baskets before the sun went down. With Otto’s quick fingers and Severin’s thin ones, it was an easy job, and the managed to get back before it got too dark.

Otto wasn’t two steps through the door before they were at Godric’s heels, wringing their hands and stammering through the worries that had built up through the day.

“Are you sure…how…did he…should I…?”

The warrior just chuckled and put a gigantic, calloused hand on the their head.

“He’s on tha’ mend, doc, on the mend. Sneezin’ his head off, sure, but gettin’ better.”

As if on cue, two loud sneezes interrupted them from one of the bedrooms, followed by a mumbled curse and a few wet sniffles. Godric shook his head.

“Been like that all day, poor tyke. When he wasn’ dozin’ off, tha’ is.”

Severin took a few scrolls out of his dragon-scale satchel.

“I understand you have a more…pressing engagement. Why don’t I take the calculations tonight?”

But Otto was already on their way to Barlow’s bedside, medicine bag in tow. Severin only lifted his eyebrows and turned on his heel, setting up the many notes he had taken and a few quills on the oaken table.

“Besides,” he murmured to himself, “I don’t want to get near whatever affliction that sprite’s come down with.”

*************

Barlow was scratching at his drooping ears, which were now covered in a red, peeling rash. Otto gently pushed his hands back under the quilt.

“I know it itches, but you need to try not to scratch.”

The healer took a small glass container out of their bag, dipping two fingers into the greenish-gray ointment inside. They began to apply the salve to Barlow’s ears, taking care not to put on too much.

“Tell me when you need a break,” Otto said.

Barlow nodded, eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes, his nostrils started to twitch, and he held up a hand.

“G-gudda…huh…!”

He jerked forward into his knees.

“hit’CHEW! hhhit’SHEW! Uh…hut’SHIEW!”

Barlow snuffled into the quilt, and Otto handed him a tissue.

“Salud.”

“Ugh…sorry, doc…”

Otto put the cork back into the glass bottle and set it on the bedside table.

“It’s alright - most sprites have the same reflex.”

“No, I beant…for…”

Barlow bit his lip, his ears drooping even lower.

“For geddin’ sick.”

Otto put a hand on the sprite’s back.

“Oh, mijo…”

“I-I didn’d mean to,” Barlow whimpered. “I…I should’ve god by coat like you told be to…and dow w-we’re - hic - gudda starve…”

Otto hushed him, pulling Barlow into an embrace and rocking him slowly back and forth.

“We will be fine, mijo,” they whispered, their voice soothing Barlow into a sniffle. “We will forage until you are better, and not a day before. That is what friends do. They protect each other, they take care of each other, and they love each other like family. And that is how I love you. Like my family.”

Barlow hiccuped, trying to speak through his tears.

“Shhh, mijo…it’s okay…”

Otto wrapped the quilt tighter around Barlow and laid him down, pushing hair damp with both tears and sweat out of his face. The sobs quieted, then dissolved into shaky breaths. Before Otto even made it through the doorway, they could hear small, congested snores coming from the pile of blankets.

*****************

Scritch scritch scritch…scriiiitch…

Harried quill scratching filled the air as Otto entered the living room, putting on their tweed coat and wool gloves. They stretched out their arms.

“Buenos días!”

Godric lifted his coffee mug as a greeting, his famous half-smile dancing over his lips.

“Well, aren’tcha bright as tha’ north star this mornin’!”

Otto beamed. Barlow had slept soundly through the night, and he was still fast asleep when they had checked on him. Not a sniffle or a sneeze came from that room.

“Severin, I was thinking we could pick up acorns today,” Otto thought aloud, buttoning their coat. “There is a beautiful place in the forest…”

Silence. The quill scratching only grew more manic. Otto glanced up.

Severin was hunched over the table, writing madly on several open scrolls, only pausing to move a few beads on his abacus. Otto went back to getting ready. Sometimes it took a while for Severin to answer if he was engrossed in his calculations. He would respond when he got to a stopping point.

After about fifteen minutes of fidgeting with their scarf, though, Otto tried again.

“From what I’ve seen, we should be ready for winter in a week, maybe less. All that’s left is the dried vegetables and a few more logs for firewood.”

Again, there was no answer. But now that Otto was a little closer, they could see why.

Severin’s eyes were inflamed and painful, as were his gaunt cheeks. His long, usually well-preened hair was matted against his forehead, with stray hairs sticking up this way and that. Thin shoulder blades came together with each labored breath. Long fingers shivered around a red quill, leaving stray marks on the parchment.

“Mi sombro,” Otto breathed.

The shadowling blinked, raising his head stiffly. Pools of sweat, shaken loose by the movement, streaked down their face.

“I…couldn’t sleep,” Severin croaked. “Have I…have I been awake…?”

Godric looked up from his mug, finally noticing the sorcerer’s state. “Stars above, lad! Ya look like hell frozen over!”

The shadowling stared straight ahead, his breath coming in ragged strains.

“Could someone…please put out the fireplace…?”

Otto clucked their tongue, putting their hands on either side of Severin’s neck. His dark eyes fluttered shut, as if with great relief.

“Mm…”

“Ay, tu cabeza,” Otto cooed, putting their hand on Severin’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Severin finally looked down at the doctor. His tense gaze was now dazed, vulnerable - even afraid.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said again, hoarsely.

Otto rubbed their thumb on Severin’s feverish cheek. “I know, cariño. I know.”

***************

It took a lot more doing to get Severin to bed than it did Barlow. Not only did he insist he was perfectly well, only warm from the unlit fireplace, but that he had seen terrifying visions outside the window.

“Their eyes, doctor…they stared into my very essence…a…a beast of some kind…we’ll be killed…”

“Shhh, my love. It’s only a nightmare from your fever. You will feel better soon.”

In the end, the only way Otto could leave the cottage was by taking a small talisman Severin had in his cloak. They weren’t superstitious, but Otto wanted to do anything they could to put the sick sorcerer at ease.

Now with one less healthy person in the group, Otto rushed to get the last of the supplies for the cold winter ahead. The first snowflakes were beginning to fall, which made finding acorns that much more difficult. Before the sun reached its peak, the ground was completely covered in a thin layer of snow. But, for once, Otto’s anxiety was an advantage.

They plowed through every task as if their life depended on it. Another of their friends falling ill had kicked their healer instinct into high gear; whenever they were fatigued or sore, all it took was a few words of the healing oath to get them going again.

“From the monsters of the cave, of the sea, of the heart,” they whispered while peeling wild wolf onions, “I shall protect and provide for those who cannot.”

As morning turned to afternoon, the light flurry of the morning became a bitter gale that howled through the trees like a hungry animal. The world was silent except for the frigid wind - all the creatures of the forest knew well enough that the winter ahead would not be kind to them.

But Otto knew nothing of this.

And so they marched forward.

It was quite past dark when Otto returned to the cottage. Much to their delight, a fire was flickering in the fireplace, and a wonderful, familiar smell lingered in the air - a mixture of tender meat and spices.

As Otto had hoped, there was a pot of stew left over the flames. The broth still bubbled with warmth, and the chicken and vegetables gave off a heavenly steam. Their stomach suddenly felt very hollow.

They hadn’t eaten all day, had they?

With raw fingers, the doctor tried their best to use the ladle, which was as big as their entire arm and weighed twice as much. Gripping the handle with both hands, they brought the brew to their lips, taking care not to burn their tongue.

A beautiful, soothing flavor poured down Otto’s throat. They leaned their head back and closed their eyes, making sure to drink up every last tasty morsel. It was a long time before the ladle was empty again.

Once they were finished, the healer felt a heaviness collect around their eyes. Finally, at long last, they could rest. The cottage was fast asleep - and now it was time for Otto to follow suit.

Sleep came upon Otto too quickly for them to retire to their own bed. Like a hound after a successful hunt, they crawled onto the sofa and curled into a ball, dead to the world before their head hit the soft cushions.

*******************

Otto wasn’t sure how long they slept. They remembered bits and pieces of dreams, of words, or memories - but mostly a comforting darkness that lulled them into a deep drowse.

When they finally awoke, the first thing they saw was the flitting of the fire. The flame had all but burned itself out during the night. Otto rolled over, stretching and sighing with satisfaction. That was the best they had slept in several days.

They indulged themselves in a large yawn and shifted off the sofa, cringing from cold stone against their bare feet.

The cottage was still silent with sleep - not a thing stirred but the creaks and groans of the wooden beams. A frigid wind had picked up outside, and bits of snow swirled in the air.

How cold Godric must be this morning, Otto thought as they padded towards the hallway. The warrior was always up and working by first light - quite before anyone else was awake - but came back inside to drink some hot coffee and see how the preparations were going. Godric made a strong cup of coffee. One could smell it and be ready for a new day; that’s usually all most could stand without sputtering.

Today, however, there was no earthy aroma of it brewing. All Otto could smell was a hint of the stew they had eaten the night before - the husk of a beautiful, delicious dream.

The doctor peeked his head into Barlow’s room. The sprite was laying on his stomach, eyes closed and breath soft. Though they had been feeling better for the past day or so, Barlow’s nose frequently ran away with him, and was still very pink and sensitive. His upright ear twitched ever so slightly, but there was no sign of him stirring any time soon.

Severin, on the other hand, had fared much worse. Despite the many wet rags coating almost every inch of his febrile body, his breathing was still heavy and labored, and his eyes darted under closed eyelids. Bite marks covered cracking lips. Otto made sure they made little noise as they tiptoed from the doorway. Severin needed all the rest he could get.

Otto turned from his patients, a familiar heaviness weighing upon their heart. Such misery in what was supposed to be a warm season of reaping and feasting.

Perhaps it came back with them from market, or from the many travelers that take the nearby road into town. With how hard everyone had been working, and how many nights were left unslept…

Otto massaged the bridge of their nose, dashing from one possibility to the next, feeling more and more ashamed by how little they prepared, how stupid they must have been, how utterly selfish! They had been so busy with preparations that they had barely noticed that their journeymates were wasting away!

They could have done something. This was all their fault, wasn’t it? How could they be a healer if they couldn’t even keep the ones they loved safe?

Otto was roused from their guilt by the sound of harsh coughing. They peeked their head into the past two rooms, fearing that one of them had been awakened by their footsteps. However, both of them were still out cold. Or out warm, in Severin’s case.

No, the coughing wasn’t coming from their rooms, Otto realized. It was coming from the third bedroom - the one that they and Godric shared.

The door creaked open as Otto shuffled inside, already knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Doc? Is tha’ you?”

Godric was sitting up in bed, quilt wrapped around him, his chest heaving with another hacking fit. His cheeks were flushed with effort and fever. Otto went to his bedside, their heart dropping into their stomach.

“Real nice ‘a this cold to leave the healer last, eh?” the warrior joked before laying back down with a quiet groan.

Otto pushed the hair off Godric’s neck and felt his lymph nodes, which were not only hot, but terribly swollen.

“I can chop those few pieces ‘a wood, an’ then I’ll-”

“You are not getting out of this bed,” Otto said sternly. Then, with a kinder tone, “I know you want to finish your work, but you are very sick. You shouldn’t be out in the snow.”

“But how-”

“I will take care of it, cariño. Just rest.”

Godric opened his mouth to say something else, but just coughed and covered himself up with his quilt.

“Take care of yerself, doc,” he said before Otto went to check on the others. “There isn’t anythin’ I can’t do after I’m back on m’feet.”

***************

Between taking care of three sick creatures and the final preparations, Otto ran themselves ragged over the next few days. None of their friends were particularly hard to take care of - especially after Severin’s fever broke - but the heaviness of their heart continued to weigh upon them.

With no other options, they threw themselves into work.

If they chopped enough wood for an extra week, they chopped enough wood for two extra weeks. The larder was more than full. Their fingers and hands and back and everything else was sore, but they couldn’t stop for long without feeling their guilt gnaw away at them.

One frigid morning, Otto had taken to the axe, splitting wood and putting them in the shed to keep them dry. They had run out of pre-cut trunks a long time ago, so they started cutting sticks in half for kindling. Out of the corner of their eye, mid-swing, they saw a figure marching through the snow - lifting their foot high before stomping it down again with a crunch.

After a few minutes, Otto could finally see a pair of long ears fluttering in the cold wind.

“Barlow!”

The sprite grinned as he approached Otto, holding up a steaming container of something in his mittened hands.

“I got soup!” he called out, trying to move faster in the deep snow. “Godric felt a lot better today, so he wanted to try somethin’ new. It’s real good! Even Severin ate a whole bowl of it, so you know it’s gotta be great.”

Barlow sat next to the chopping block, and patted a mound of snow next to him. Otto sat down, wincing as their sore muscles twinged.

“Godric says we’re all packed up for winter,” Barlow continued as he handed Otto the food. “And we’ll even have stuff to eat in the spring, too.”

Otto didn’t answer, but tucked into the soup, not even blowing it off before putting the spoon in their mouth. Barlow thought for a little bit, then spoke again.

“Doc, Godric told me that we got more than enough food and wood to last through the winter. If you wanna come inside, we’ve got a checker game goin’…”

Otto didn’t respond, but they had started to shiver from the cold. Barlow took of his coat and draped it around Otto’s shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get back. Everybody’s waitin’ for us.”

Barlow took Otto by the hand and pulled them up, then led them back towards the cottage. Otto trailed behind like a quivering lamb, both exhausted and numb. They couldn’t think of much else than putting one foot in front of the other.

When the pair finally got back to the cottage, a warm, cozy scene awaited them. Severin was on the couch, doing needlepoint with half-open eyes and content look on his face. Godric was above the stove, stirring a pot and putting one seasoning or another into it. The fire was blazing in a lovely orange hue that painted the scene with a beautiful glow.

While Barlow went right inside and was greeted by the others, Otto stood in the doorway, weary eyes closed, soaking up the light and warmth as much as they could.

“Doctor?”

Severin was up now, his quiet wisdom regained. Before Otto could answer, the sorcerer started to remove their soaked outer layers with quick fingers.

“If Barlow didn’t bring you here,” Severin said, “you would have worked yourself to a frozen skeleton.”

Otto suddenly jerked his head to the side.

“het’TCH! TCH! TCH’UH!”

“Many blessings, doctor.”

Severin smiled and tilted his head.

“Many, many blessings.”

Otto sniffled, rubbing their nose with stiff fingers.

“Nngh…gracias. Just a little…heh…htch’CHU!”

“Aye, I don’ like tha’ sound of that,” Godric rumbled from the kitchen, turning his head to see the sickly healer.

Otto waved their hand. “Just a li-hih-ttle sdiffle…”

“One that is long overdue, I think,” Severin said, putting the last of their wet things away.

Otto was ushered in front of the fire, still at the mercy of his nose. With each sneeze came a chorus of blessings and, if need be, another handkerchief.

“That’s a real nasty cold, huh?” Barlow commented after a particularly forceful fit. “Even I didn’t sneeze that much.”

As the day came to a close, the group all gathered on the couch, listening to the wind howling outside and treating themselves to Godric’s famous roast and sweet apple tea. Otto didn’t eat very much, but the hot tea soothed their sore throat.

“Tank you for taking such good care of be,” Otto snuffled.

Godric chuckled. “Ya care so much about us, doc. It only makes sense that we’s care an awful lot about you, ‘specially when ya aren’t feelin’ well.”

“And after you tended so well to us, may I add,” Severin said, leaning his head back.

“Yeah!” Barlow agreed, not exactly as good with words as the others, but still just as thankful.

Otto, overcome, buried their face in Godric’s side and began to cry, letting out everything that they had felt in the past few days. They wanted to stop, they wanted to explain, but it was lost in desperate sobs and hiccuping. Godric held them closer to him while the others offered quiet support until the doctor quieted.

“There ya go,” Godric said, putting a large hand on Otto’s head. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Filled with comfort and warm food, Otto quickly dozed off, and the others weren’t far behind. The only sounds were the falling of fresh snow, the crackling of the fireplace, and the snores of deep, contented sleep.

And, as winter finally settled into Harbinger Woods, they all settled down for their long winter’s rest.

******************

Not only do I want to dedicate this to @perfectpaperbluebirds , who gave me the prompt, but also @sneezytomatosquish , who has been feeling emotionally and physically under the weather lately. That may have changed by the time this fic is finished, but I shall gift it to you anyway. You are one of my favorite creators, but I want to create something for you for a change. You deserve it.

Get well soon!

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